


The Stars Incline Us

by An_Author



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2019-10-18 01:53:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 236,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17572067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/An_Author/pseuds/An_Author
Summary: When a university student visits a bar after a full day of conferences, a chance meeting helps foster a bond that two people, both with their own demons, need in their lives.Jen "Mac" MacDougall does her best to cope with her own issues throughout their friendship while coming to grips with the fact that one of her best friends isn't being wholly honest with her anymore.This story begins while they are in college and weaves its way through the Daredevil (Netflix) narrative.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of a challenge from a friend of mine, who declared that we write something utilizing the last show that we had watched. Ta da.
> 
> Now the games begin. See you at the eventual finish, darling.

I can feel you, you know: poking around up here in my mind. It’s like you’ve cupped your hands to a window and you’re trying to peer through the glass, but it’s all fogged up so you tap to try and get my attention. I don’t know who you are or – or where you are for that matter. I don’t even know if you’re on my side, their side, or you’re just accidentally stuck in my head…but…I can feel you and I think I know what you’re looking for.

Sorry to disappoint you. Well…almost…no…not really. You aren’t going to find what you’re looking for. You would have found it already if you had.

But while you’re looking into my mind, let’s have a chat. It’s going to be pretty one-sided, since you’ve said jack once I realized something was wrong. So, yeah. This chat. I’ve been wanting to tell you somethings for quite a while and now I’ve got some time.

Let me tell you what this current existence, my present looks like: I’m here, sat on one of those metal chairs you find in coffee houses, hands tied behind my back with some sort of nylon cord. It’s digging into my wrists and my fingertips are starting to go numb. Pretty sure my nose is broken and my shoulder’s dislocated. This place is an abandoned something or other. Seems to be a lot of that after the Battle of New York. Definitely a bad guy lair, for sure. I should probably hire their designer. I was wanting to go _grunge villain chic_ the next time I updated my apartment.

Over there, I can hear a gang of merry men talking about what they plan to do with me now that they realize my wallet’s empty, my cellphone is password protected, and they don’t know what to do with the giant backpack I had been carrying. They’re whispering, but I can hear them just fine. They aren’t being subtle. They’re waiting.

See, I look at this situation as having one of two possible outcomes: either I walk away; or…I don’t. That’s rather sobering, isn’t it? And there’s an odd sense of calm that’s overtaken me since getting here. All that adrenaline, you know? Making me hyper-focused. Alert. Alive. I’m basically like a fucking super-hero right now. All I need is a bad guy monologue and I’ll be able to miraculously break free, kick their asses and stroll out of here like I’m frolicking through a god damned meadow.

Well. Maybe not that much of a superhero. But you get where I’m going, right? Of course you do; at least I think you do. You can hear my thoughts.  
Ah. You thought I didn’t know that. Tsk, tsk. Want to know how I know? I’m smart. I observe things. I know you can’t actually _see_ my thoughts. That’d be weird and put us in a rather awkward position. Girls have dirty thoughts sometimes, too. Heh.

Anyway. Let’s focus on me. This time is about me. I’m strapped down to a chair. They want me to scream and yell. I’m not feeling it, you know; giving in to what they want. They’re looking for someone.  
My mind’s racing a million miles a minute but, the ol’ ticker keeps beating at seventy-one beats per minute. Yes, I know that’s precise. Yes, I know that’s what it is because I can hear the blood thundering in my ears. You’ll figure it out shortly. I’ll tell you.

I digress. And sorry if I jump around a bit. This is new to me, too. It’s my first time. Go easy on me. Be gentle. I’m funny. Ha.

I haven’t properly introduced myself. My name is Jen. Some people call me Mac. But, it’s Jennifer Elise MacDougall. My mother always wanted a daughter and always wanted to name her Jennifer. It means _fair one_ or some bullshit. And I assure you, I don’t feel fair and haven’t, like…ever. Elise is a family name and for whatever reason that got passed down to me.  
If you’re clever, you’ll see that MacDougall is A) where I get the nickname from and B) gives me some Scottish heritage in there somewhere.  
  
I’m telling you this because my name has been a sick joke to me for most of my life. My parents effectively named me the ‘Fair Oath to God’. You’ll see why it’s funny. Trust me. MacDougall comes from son of Dougall, and that meant _dark stranger_ and the motto translates to Conquer or Die. I’m not a weirdo. I did a _My Ancestry_ thing. Whatever. I don’t have to justify this to you.  
So hello, I’m Fair, Dark Stranger with an Oath to God.

For whatever reason, I’m going to tell you some things and then, leave it up to you to see if it’s worth poking around in my thoughts. But I’m just letting you know that, if I get out of here I’m going to make it a point to find you wherever you are.

I guess the first thing to tell you is that I had a fairly uneventful childhood. Sort of. I have a mother, a father, a younger brother; had a dog here and there, had a cat, a hamster…you know, normal.  
I got tagged when I was six or seven as intellectually gifted by my school. When my first-grade classmates were trying to spell four letter words, my spelling list included through, thought, thorough, trough, and such. And I wasn’t the only one…there were nine of us between the two classes that qualified for accelerated instruction, but I digress again. I’m telling you this to verify what I meant earlier when I said I was smart.

A memory coming to light involves me sitting in class during third grade talking to my at the time best friend, Allie. We went over each other’s house every weekend, had friendship bracelets and passed notes. You know. Elementary school friendships in the late 90s.  But one day, Allie told me that she didn’t want me to come over to her house anymore and that she wasn’t allowed to come to mine. I thought it was weird, I mean…duh. But I didn’t tell my mom or dad. I told my little brother and then I told the teacher.

You should probably also know that in my cumulative file, that’s the thing the follows you all through school, there was a post-it note written by my first grade teacher on the inside cover. I know this because I saw it. Doesn’t matter. So, the post-it kinda read as follows:

Intuitive, observant and honest.  
Picks up on sarcasm and complex social cues.  
Can lip read.  
Has a bit of a temper.  
Finished Black Beauty in a week.  
Test this child immediately.

So, back to what I was originally trying to tell you. A month or so after the fallout with Allie, she quit talking to me and I noticed that she had some marks on her arms. Bruises. I tried to spy an eye when my parents would watch _Law & Order_. Those marks looked familiar. I had ones similar from my father…when he came to my room at night.  So, I told the teacher.

Allie was taken away six or so weeks later; they told us that she had moved away and my classmates looked to me to verify.  
“Yeah, she had to change schools,” I would reply. I wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t lying. But I was circumventing the truth because I knew as a nine-year-old that was something you had to do sometimes. I was brokenhearted. I hope that, one day, with social media and all, I might find Allie and tell her it was me and – and that I did it because I wanted her to be safe. And then profusely apologize because that happens sometimes when you grow up Catholic. Assuming that she turned out okay. But Allie was the reason I went home that night after school and told my parents that I wanted to take karate.

My mother was furious and my father was disinterested. “Dance makes you graceful,” she snapped. I think, in hindsight, she wanted me to be like her. But I wasn’t and I’m not. “I can’t afford for you to do dance and karate.”  
That was true. I mean, my younger brother was in football, soccer, karate, a skateboarding thing, baseball… Not to sound mean, because I love him to death, but my mother recognized early that I could be decent at anything if I tried and my brother needed to be exposed to things to find what he could be good at. As an adult, I get it. Tell me I’m wrong.  
I took solace in learning and achieving and reading books…Danny wasn’t like that. Still isn’t.  
I told her to drop me out of dance after I performed the end of the year recital and I’d start taking karate after, asking if that was the responsible course of action.

Let me tell you, I must have been viewed as the damn anti-Christ to her at times. There I was, nine, trying to have a fairly adult conversation about responsibility, finances, and desires; and she was having none of it. “Young lady! I have put you in tap, gym, ballet, jazz, and baton for you to get good at it and not throw it away!”

“I can use the money from my chores to offset some of the cost,” I offered.

“Is it Dominic? You’ve been hanging out with him a lot lately. Is Dominic in karate lessons?”

“No, he’s not.”

You’ll see why Dominic is important, but I’ll get to him. My mom didn’t believe me and called his dad where he verified, nope, Dom wasn’t in karate. So she called my teacher wanting to know where this sudden desire for martial arts came from.

God bless that teacher. Mrs. Mary. She lied through her teeth and told my mom that I’d read a book about martial arts and she felt that, like every other subject I could get my hands on, I wanted to learn more and take something away from it. I felt a little bit of that Catholic guilt, but I got what I had asked for. She kept me in dance until the end of fifth grade, but it was apparent to her that I was done with it. She put me in Tae Kwon Do where my instructors had belts in various disciplines. It was great. I absorbed all that like a sponge.

By Catholic, I mean really Catholic. Never missed a Sunday unless I was ill and on antibiotics, did the whole First Holy Communion and Confirmation, was an altar server and then they made me a lector when I was in eighth grade. I was already a decent public speaker, I guess…or I read the bible verses a little less droll than the seventy-year-olds that were my ‘competition’. Confirmation…huh. I haven’t thought about that in a while. I took the name Brioc…it’s Celtic…means _high or mighty._ Saint Brioc was one of the seven founder saints of Brittany. Died sometimes in the 500s. My mom had told me he was a patron saint of music, but that’s not true. I should have done my research. He’s the patron saint of purse makers. I mean, I guess someone has to be.

Eighth grade was kind of pivotal. New priest at church and he ends up becoming like an uncle to me. Closer to me than my biological uncles despite being in his late 60s.  
If you haven’t inferred, or I didn’t make it clear enough, I was very much a tomboy growing up. My mother giving in to martial arts was my first major win in pushing back: _This is who I am and it’s not what you want._

Dom did eventually start taking martial arts and we would run into the woods behind our houses and fight. He got it…you know? He knew me better that I think I knew myself at that age. I liked it. He didn’t start taking karate until we got into eighth grade, so I kind of looked at myself as his teacher and partner in crime. It was my mother’s fault that she let us watch _Fight Club_ one weekend. Yep…definitely created a middle school fight club in the woods; complete with a ring made out of brush and sticks. The stakes? Capri-Sun and Cheez-its.  You know. Very hardcore.

But the next memory has me sitting at lunch at a big round table. There were ten of us, me and nine other guys sitting around. Dominic sat to my left. Always. Every year. Until high school when we had different lunch periods. But still. Dom was to my left and our circle of friends from other elementary schools arced the whole way around until my other good friend, Mike, sat on my right. It was our eighth grade year.

It was a great lunch crew. We would have staring contests, talk about how crap our classwork was, give each other a heads up about pop quizzes or collected homework, make plans for some ultimate frisbee or capture the flag over the weekend; and, now that I think about it, I distinctly remember that cafeteria smelling strongly of pizza and ranch dressing. Let’s be honest, eighth grade lunch wasn’t the best time in our lives to be making delectable meal choices.

I was listening to Mike and Tim talking about the pop quiz in science that tanked their grade for the week, warning the rest of us to read our notes after we dumped our trays when Dom nudged me in my side with his elbow.

“You okay?” Now, this guy had sandy brown hair and had recently started spiking it, which I’m going to add that I told him he looked ridiculous. He had medium blue eyes, wire-framed glasses, and was finally starting to leave me in the dust in height. He was an adrenaline junkie, too. Dirt bikes, motocross, rock climbing; if he could get a rush, he was already trying to get into it.

“Yeah, why?”

He pointed to my face. What I’ve not stated is that my entire left orbital socket was purple and green and I had hemorrhaged some of the blood vessels in my eye. I’d told him about Allie last summer and how I felt a confused sense of guilt about it. I remember him leaning close and whispering, “Did Josh do that?”

Josh was the school bully and I’d told him off about snapping the straps of the girls bras as they walked by, which for some stupid reason was the thing the boys were doing to the girls that year in middle school.

“Nah,” I whispered. “I had a competition Saturday. Took second. I didn’t justify my distance enough and accidentally leaned into a knee strike. With my face.” It’s true. My instructor signed a note and provided video for the school in case they had questions. I didn’t tell him that the person I was up against was twenty-seven. He would have been worried. But I was that good.

“M’kay. Josh apparently has it out for you. At least that’s what the word on the street is.”

I shrugged at him, saying that, “My mom would let me finish a fight, but she’d kill me if I started one.” And as if on cue, the sleaze ball walked by our table and tried to intimidate me. Whatever.

The bell rang and Dom, Tim, and I went to gym with Josh and his posse. It was dodgeball day. My favorite. Me and my crew had _flight patterns_ , or ways that we made it possible to get out tons of people and very seldom did we lose. I remember changing and waiting in the hallway: girls on one side, boys on the other; waiting for the bell at the end of class, still pumped up from our win.

Josh stood across from me and asked if I’d like to discuss our problem. Well, no. We don’t have a problem. You have a problem that someone told you _No or Stop_ and it didn’t work out in your favor.

“Oh, really? How would you like a matching black eye, you bitch?”

I nodded, calm, “You could try.”

Dom and Tim were immediately on either side of me, Dom’s arm pressing lightly on the back of mine. “Leave her alone, Josh. She told you to leave Nikki alone. That’s all.”

“She would need you to fight her fights, wouldn’t she? You guys are practically dating.”

“Back off, Josh,” I warned. “I don’t want to fight you. And neither do they.” Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Dominic wanted to fight him for being disrespectful to me, but that didn’t mean that Dom wanted to fight him in this narrow hallway at the present moment.

Josh sucker punched Dom sending him staggering backward, grabbed my shirt collar, and shoved me into the wall. I can vividly remember the sound of my skull thwacking against white-painted cinder block, black dots swimming into view.  
“Mrs. Greene!” I shouted, classmates scattering out of the way. My thinking was, I did what I was supposed to. I called for the teacher. Josh just didn’t realize I knew she wasn’t going to get there in time and I let him hit me across the face, hard. My braces cut open the inside of my mouth and my tongue felt slick on liquid copper. In dramatic fashion, I dragged my face back up to his, grabbed either side of his face and skull-bashed him. When he staggered backward, I landed a kick to the inside of his knee and threw my elbow into his back before kicking him into the wall.

In a sign of guilt and finality, I threw my hands up in the air and let Mrs. Greene start yelling. Dominic was already up, bracing against the wall and we were sent to the office. The dean, having heard the school gossip about Josh trying to pick a fight with me, reviewed the footage with us before calling our parents.

“You should have called for a teacher,” he chastised.

I shrugged, adjusted my ice pack against my face and spit the blood in my mouth into a cup the nurse gave me. “I did. And then he hit me. So I finished it.”

Dominic sat leaning back in his chair, trying to be aloof and act like he didn’t care. I know he did. He was supposed to go to some motocross show with his dad that weekend and now, because of our behavior, he knew his dad wasn’t going to take him. “Same thing.”

“You know that I am going to call your parents.”

“Of course. I understand; it _is_ a fight.”

Mr. Day’s eyes scrutinized me. “Miss MacDougall, you could be accused of being flip with me if you continue talking like that.”

“I understand that, too. I’m not trying to be. There was an action and now there has to be a consequence. You taught me that in Physics.”

“Mac, you could have just let it go after he was on the ground. Why did you have to kick him while he was down?”

I stared directly at him, paused a beat and offered up, “He hit Dom. Cheap shot for cheap shot.”

“Mr. Bonner, do you have anything to say for yourself?”

In an act of early teenage rebellion, he leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “Yeah. If you would have dealt with Josh threatening Mac in the first place, we wouldn’t be here. So there’s that.”

Our parents got called. He talked to them separately, but I distinctly remember him telling Mr. Bonner that, off the record, he was proud of the way Dominic had stood up for me, showing him the video.  
My mother, however, was not pleased. I had a 4.3 GPA and she was already deciding what school and major I was going to have in college. This was a mark on my record.

“Mrs. MacDougall, look, your daughter technically followed the rules which is why I am only issuing her two afterschool detentions rather that the automatic three day out. You should be proud.”

“Yeah,” I remember her glaring down at me. “Technically she didn’t break them. She’s too smart to. I don’t want them in the same classes anymore.”

“We can have the guidance counselors move Josh out of her classes.”

“No, he won’t be a problem any more. She’s made an example of him. I don’t want her anywhere near Dominic. He’s always managed to make her throw caution to the wind, so to speak.”

I knew what she was doing. I wasn’t stupid. She was mad and wanted to punish me the best way she could. Yelling at me didn’t work and I knew she wasn’t totally disappointed in my actions. But taking away my best friend and making lunch the only time we could see each other during the day? That was a nail in the coffin.

The dean looked down to me, still sitting with ice to my face and I defeatedly dragged my eyes away from his to stare at some inane corner of tile. “I’ll look into it.”

I heard wheels from a gurney coming down the hallway as Josh was wheeled out of the nurse’s office to go to the emergency room.  
I found out later that I fractured his cheekbone, sprained a muscle in his back, tore is ACL and dislocated his knee, and my kick to his gut left a contusion. I wasn’t sorry that I’d caused that much damage…not really. I felt guilt because I enjoyed the rush I got when I was fighting and it had affirmed what I suspected on the mat: I liked it.

She pulled me out of martial arts immediately. She didn’t give me any time to tell my instructors what happened. Mom boxed up all of my medals and trophies from sparring and grappling and stashed them in the attic. Five years of instruction was apparently plenty.

I wasn’t viewed as a monster by my classmates, but instead, they realized that I wasn’t bullshitting them about knowing how to fight or that stuff; and, I didn’t lash out.  
Dom was pulled out of half of my classes and he wasn’t allowed to sit next to me at lunch anymore. Circumventing that directive, he and Tim traded places so now he was across from me.

I remember the next week, Dom’s left eye was black and I joked that he had something on his face. He touched his cheek with a head nod and told me that I did, too. Josh came into the lunch room and it went quiet. He had to wear a stabilizing brace and was being pushed around in a wheelchair. His eyes sought me out and waited for something. I remember feeling odd, but I gave him an acknowledging nod and went back to eating quietly. Dom said something about how Josh told his buddy to keep pushing him and to leave us be, but I didn’t hear it.

Why this story? I’m trying to let you know that I’m capable and I can hold my own….and that I might be a horrible person because of it.

We lived in the same neighborhood, me and Dom. After the fight, he started sneaking out of the house at night and sat in my backyard, waiting for me to come down and sit with him while I taught him about the stars and celestial bodies overhead.

He told me I should be a teacher. I remember laughing and telling him that my mother wanted me to be an aerospace engineer and that would be a problem because math was a chore being something that I didn’t enjoy.

“You know, you didn’t really tell the truth to Mr. Day.”

I remember turning to stare at him and feeling inquisitive about his observations. I can still smell the wet grass under the blanket; I can still feel the weighty haze overtaking my bones from the school day, fight club, and now sitting under the stars, and the lingering smell of Axe spray…I mean…that’s what middle school dreams are made of, right?  
“No. But I didn’t lie.”

“So you kicked him because he got a cheap shot? Big deal. I slammed you into a tree today when I was trying to win.”

“You’re learning.”

Dom frowned, his blue eyes looked almost black in the dark. “He could be learning.”

“He’s a bully.”

“You like it.”

My mouth involuntarily twitched, which I thought peculiar. “I think so.”

His look of concern alarmed me. Dom wasn’t afraid of anything, ever. “Why?”

I didn’t know why back then and told him that. “I just know that I like it.”

“Well…don’t like it too much or I’m going to have to beat you up.”

“You’ll have to make sure there’s a tree nearby.”

I could smell his hair gel and the body spray he had put on after we’d finished our match in the woods. He wrapped the larger blanket around our shoulders and we sat for a time gazing back up at the stars.

“You could be anything, you know. You’re way, way smarter than me.”

“So?”

“I’m not smart like you. You’re in honors classes now…and you’ve always been smart and you’ll go to college. I don’t think I will.”

“So what?”

“What do you mean, ‘ _So what_ ’? Don’t you get it? Eventually you’re going to be doing smart people things and I’m still going to be here working in my dad’s garage.”

The striking force of the realization that my mother had called his father in an effort to separate us as soon as possible stunned me even though I knew I shouldn’t have been surprised. That’s the tactic she wanted to use? Wouldn’t she be mad when I told her that I really liked playing the tuba and singing in choir now…perhaps I would tell her that’s what delighted me at present so that she could drain more money on lessons or classes that would give me the upper hand as a college student.

I shut the stargazing book and remember my face felt stern. “I mean ‘ _so what’_ in the sense that I don’t care if you’re a mechanic or a president. You’re my best friend and you need to accept the fact that you aren’t going to get rid of me that easily. I care about what’s in there,” I pointed vaguely to his heart, “Not what keeps your hands busy. Neither my mother or your dad are going to change that.”  
If roles were reversed, you could have said I was being smooth and trying to impress the girl; but words were easy. They helped me to easily convey what was going on in my head to others more accurately. I studied the dictionary for fun. They made it easy for my to have people do what I wanted without being mean or lying, sometimes. But not Dom. I didn’t do that to him.  
“You’re getting stronger than me.”

His shoulders heaved as he tried to stifle his laughter from my mother’s potential earshot. “I’ve always been stronger than you.”

“Can I tell you something?”

“Sure, but if it’s that you’re stronger than me, I’m going to have to arm wrestle you to prove it.”

“It’s about my dad.”

I had never told Dom that my father had abused me and that I was the reason that he ultimately left when we were in sixth grade. It didn’t mean that Dom hadn’t picked up on it.

“Oh. Uh. Yeah…okay.”

I don’t remember why I felt the need to tell him this. Maybe it was that I wanted to bring balance to how he viewed me or explain why I liked fighting; I’m not entirely sure.  
Our shoulders and the length of our arms were touching under the blanket and I felt oddly safe. “He did things to me…um…things my mom said I’m not allowed to talk to anyone about. And…um…it wasn’t a lot…but…enough, I think…that…”

“He’s not here anymore. You don’t have to be scared.”

“…I told him, the day before he left…that I was going to kill him if he touched me again.”

“Oh. Okay.”  
I felt hot streaks burning down my face, the lights turning into stars as I squinted to make tears stop. He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into his side. “You’re okay. Don’t be sad.”

“Doesn’t that make me a monster? Are you afraid of me, now?”

“Nah,” he squeezed me. “If you’re a monster, then I can be your keeper. I’m not going to let anyone take you away.”  
And that was the end of that.

 

Hmm. I miss that guy. A lot. A lot of me is shaped by Dom, inadvertently at first, and then I realized he was who he was and I let him write more of my pages.

In high school, I focused on music and was playing tuba all over the place. Dom would come to my concerts and I would go to bike shows with him. We played Xbox with each other on the weekend and made time to hang out every week. We weren’t in the same classes anymore and didn’t have the same lunch period.

Fight Club continued until partway through junior year when the cops had to be called. Some ass-hat didn’t cover their bases and lied a little too poorly to their parents about where they were. When the cops showed up, we had been finishing for the night and that meant Dom and I were going against each other. We were the crowd favorite. We got good at it, you see…we learned how to maximize our hits on each other without leaving any marks.  
It was raining…it’d been hot out and the rain felt amazing. Bunch of high school kids all outdoors getting into mischief. Cops showed up, we sprinted deeper into the woods; together.

“Mac, you’re getting a little slow…too much blowing.”

I huffed a snort at him when I slid down an embankment on my hip. “Says the ass that didn’t hurdle the last log we had to jump over. Guess you shouldn’t have let me swipe at your knee!”

We knew there a series of big, hollowed out trees four hundred yards or so ahead that most people walked past in an effort to get to an underground drainpipe. It was a druggie haven. _Smoke a pipe in the pipe_. If we could get to the trees, we’d be safe.

“Mac, run. Go!” he shouted.  
I took off like a bullet, tearing through the trees; zig-zagging through ferns and brush, my skin feeling as if it were lightning and my muscles nitro. I reached the larger of the hollowed out trees, my lungs set ablaze by the humid air I was gulping into my chest. Dom wasn’t with me and my ears strained to hear him through the trees. I could hear heavy, lopsided strides getting closer, but I didn’t want to peer out too soon in the event he was being followed.

My chest heaved and my hands were shaking. What if they were finally here to take me away? I did make my father bleed all those years ago…and I still had nightmares about being taken. I couldn’t breathe…my chest was rattling but the air wasn’t coming.

Suddenly, a flash of blue flannel came into view and I lunged for the fabric. My fingers balled the cotton in my hand and I pulled it its owner to me with all my strength, wrapping my arms around whatever I could.  
“Jesus, Mac!”

I turned him in towards the back of the trunk, rested my forehead between his shoulder blades; my back facing the narrow opening, ready for the lash. But…I was so surprised when the shoe didn’t drop. The cops didn’t find us and had headed to the pipe.

“You’re okay,” he whispered. “You’ve got me. You’re okay. Relax.” I didn’t realize I had been squeezing him so tight. I left bruises. “Come on, beastie. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

Would it surprise you to know that we never dated? We didn’t. But, you know…some–sometimes you just jive with a person so wholly that it doesn’t really matter how different you are because…you know…that’s what works. If you don’t have someone like that, I hope you find someone that does for you what Dom did for me growing up. But everyone knew we were close and best friends. We helped each other through some nasty breakups, glad that the constant in our lives was us.

At one point after graduation, he pointed out that I was going to have to be with someone like me to be happy. “Mac, that last asshole was a tool. You need to stop dating dudes that only want you because they think you’re a good lay.”

“I am a good lay, Dom.”

“I didn’t want to know that. Really. I know we share, like, everything…but I did _not_ need that to be burned in my skull.”

“You brought it up.”

“ _Anyway_ …like I was saying…”

We were sitting in a coffee shop. Some jazz something or other was playing and the Edison bulb over our table flickered. My espresso was cooling nicely as he drank his super sugary bullshit with whipped cream and sprinkles.  
“Describe them. Who do you think I need?”

“Smart. Sarcastic. Able to put you in your place and be the boss. Bit of an asshole, to be honest; and possible a dash of scary.”

That stilled me. “Scary?”

Dom wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. “Well, yeah, Mac. I love you and all, but you can be scary and you’ll need someone who can meet scary with scary.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

“No, God no!” he leaned forward. “Hell no. Never. You’re my best friend. But I know that you can be scary.”

“Hmm,” I groaned and rubbed my face in my hands. “God, I’m so fucked up.”

His held tilted to the side in thought. “Yeah, but there’s no other beastie I’d rather have in my life. So that’s something.”

“I am a gift to your life, you better remember that.”

“Oh yeah; a gift. My life would be so much more normal without you.”

“Damn straight. Drink your mocha-unicorn-glitter-chino bullshit and shut up. Ass.”  
I can picture him so clearly at the table: his hair had turned dark blond in the summer sun, shaggy on top and neat on the sides; squared jaw with a bit of stubble at the chin, his baritone voice vibrating through his chest, an eyebrow propped up challenging me to a verbal sparring match and his hands already showing wear from his dad’s garage. He was taller than me now…close to six-four and I remember making note of how strong he was. Not just physically, but his soul radiated strength. I mean, it’d have to be to deal with me for this long.  
But then something struck me: he was the good person that I wanted to be and that was perhaps why I was so drawn to him as a kid. He was naturally just…good. I didn’t feel like I was.

“Bitch.” The corners of his mouth turned up, and swear to God: Dom looked like the Cheshire Cat.

“I’ll make you pay for that.”

“You could try. Sun down?”

“Sun down.”

 

I went to college and he went to trade school. We took turns calling each other on Saturdays. Every week. Without fail. I went to a law school in Ohio at my mother’s glee…she assumed I’d stay there for my undergrad and graduate work;  Dom went to study mechanics. We both talked about how we weren’t happy and after a year, he changed to metalwork and I moved toward business management. Part of me wanted to drop out and go to culinary school. I could have. Maybe I should have. Dom and I talked about it. I might have been happier earlier.

Sophomore year, I got selected to go to a conference in New York for a business something or other. It was an opportunity to meet and greet with the powers of business in this country; and, allow them to start looking and groom potential hires. At the end of the first day of sessions, I went with some of my peers to a bar frequented by a bunch of Columbia students as suggested by one of the girl’s cousins. I was twenty at this point and technically underage. I’ve always looked older than I am. Getting drinks wasn’t difficult for me.  
I’ve been told it’s the way I carry myself. People don’t often run into me because … well, I look like I could make you have a really bad day if you did so. I met some law students but wasn’t overly interested on picking anyone up so much as drinking. It was Dom’s birthday and I wasn’t able to go home and spend it with him drinking in our hideout in the woods like we did every year.

“ _Mac, you need to get over Kevin_.”

I rolled my eyes, “Kevin was two guys ago. The last one was Blake.”

“ _Blake? What kind of fucking name is Blake? Sounds like a douche. Did you tell me about him?_ ” he interrogated over the phone.

“Nah,” I offered. I sat on an overstuffed chair, swinging my legs over the arm. “Didn’t think it would last long. Wasn’t great.”

_“Can you, like, I dunno…settle down a bit? You’re insane.”_

I feigned being hurt, “Oh my God, are you calling me a slut?”

“ _No_ ,” he quipped coolly. “ _I’m saying that you need to find someone who’s going to make you better, Mac…not someone that’s going to follow you around like a damn puppy._ ”

“Just as well, I guess. He tried to push me around.”

“ _HE FUCKING WHAT?!_ ”

“I took care of it, Dom. He’s walking around with a limp.”

“ _You should have done more than just given him a limp. I know this is going to sound counterintuitive…but I know that he doesn’t have just a limp…and I think you should take it easy on the fighting thing. I know you’re doing that thing where you only tell me part of the truth.”  
“That’s it. I’m coming out as soon as you get back from this conference and I’m crashing at your place_.”

“Hey, Dom?”

“ _What_?”

“Happy Birthday. Bring beer when you come out.”

 

A few hours and numerous drinks later…I like liquor, by the way…and beer…it was slowly approaching closing time and my colleagues had already left with their one-night-stands. A guy asked if I needed a cab to take me home and it brought me out of my zoned out world where I was contemplating what my mind would be like if my father hadn’t raped or abused me. But when I looked up to say that I was fine, the man struck me as – as…I don’t know…special. He was blind, but there was something about him standing there that vehemently reminded me of Dom. And yet, there was a vast amount of him that screamed _Not Dom_ to me, too.

 “No, not yet; but, thank you.”

He frowned for a second. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but would you mind if I sat here until my friend comes to get me? He’s currently talking to that girl at the bar top and I’m trying to be wingman of the year.”

I’d do that for Dom when we’d go out on the weekends. So here was this stranger, attentive to me and asking if he could sit with me for now. “Sure, have a seat.”

“Thank you. I’m going to be honest: I told them that you had been waiting for me. I know, shitty…but…I was trying to give them some space. What brings you out drinking alone tonight, out of curiosity… I – I think I smell…Johnnie Walker.”

I nodded, impressed; but I knew that in the absence of one sense others were often heightened. I remembered learning about it somewhere. “Nice. I play that game with my friend, too. And props,” I toasted in his direction, clinking the ice against the glass for him to hear. “Your sense of smell’s on point.”  
“As for the occasion? Just…thinking about what could have been and how that could change things,” I felt my voice drop.

“I’m sorry,” he offered. “I’m not anybody, but you could talk to me about it. I hear I’m a good listener.”

“Don’t you have to be, by nature? Considering?”

So this guy sat there, smirked, and nodded. “Literally and figuratively speaking. Go ahead. No judgement. No strings attached. I have a feeling I might be here a while.”  
And I did. I sat there and talked to him about vague topics at first before explaining that I had daddy issues (sparing him the details for the sake of pity); and, he told me about his frustrations with school and that he was still trying to get over someone that he thought was important to him.

“Hmm,” I nodded. “Sounds like you could use a drink.” I scooted my glass of scotch over to him saying that I was done for the night.  
“Thanks for listening. I think it helped more than I think I could tell you.”

He nodded, downed the scotch and leaned back in his chair. “Likewise. So you’re a sophomore, you said?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed. “And you said that you’re a junior, right? And you’re planning on pushing through into law school? I would hazard a guess that your should be getting ready to take your LSAT soon.”

“Yeah, I’ve been studying. I’m a bit bookish, to be fair. Not overly athletic when it comes to being blind, you know.”

“Hmm,” I pursed my lips. “If you say so.” I stood and grabbed my bag. “I’ll walk you back to wherever you need to go. Doesn’t look like your friend’s giving up.”

“Isn’t it supposed to be my job to walk you to a cab?”

I shrugged and rolled my eyes. “I’m not a strictly conventional person and I just got done telling you things that I’ve only told the best friend, Joe.”

“Joe?”

“We didn’t make introductions, so I made up a name for you.”

“It’s Matt.”

“Uh-oh,” I remember goading him. “Now I know who you are, Matt from Columbia. Your anonymity is completely blown.” He stood up and I think what it was…it was probably the smile that I noticed the most. “I’m Jen.” I extended my hand and realized that I was an idiot. I remember thinking: _He can’t see, you idiot._ “I’ll shake your hand to complete introductions if you’d like.”

“Nice to meet you, Jen, not from Columbia. My apartment’s not far, if you don’t mind?”

I walked him to his building, he was talking idly about the coursework he was taking and he mentioned his dad was the reason he got into law. I felt a pang of jealousy that a parent could be the good reason for a life decision and not the reason one chose a major out of spite. My silence tipped him off and he apologized if he’s said something that bothered me.  
“Nah, just being Catholic and beating myself up about something. Don’t mind me.”

“Catholic? Me, too.”

I crossed my arms and smirked, “We aren’t going to be trading altar boy stories, are we? Mine aren’t juicy, though I did accidentally set an entire box of incense on fire once.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Uh, no. No, nothing like that.”

I yawned rudely, albeit accidentally. I was tired. I’d spent so much of the day moping in my head about my father and had an early morning session at the conference that I really wanted to go to. “I’m sorry, but I really need to get some sleep. It’s nearly three and I’ve got to get up at seven if I’m going to be the least bit conscious for this conference.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you…uh…thank you…for walking me home.”

“No worries, glad you made it safe.”

I turned, my first few steps down the sidewalk felt heavy. I remember thinking that I was being foolish…and drunk; he wasn’t a bad guy and I was probably looking for a reason to hate everyone I met since I was salty. “I’ll be back here tomorrow around nine if you want to talk some more…you know…off the record…or something. You could tell me about your conference…or not. Up to you.”

“I think,” I turned to face him. I was smiling. Why was I smiling? What did I have to be happy about? “I think I can pencil that in. Get some sleep, Columbia Matt.”

“You too, Not-Columbia Jen.”

To be fair, the school put us up in the Crowne Plaza nearby, so it was a quick cab ride. I got to my room before the girl I was sharing a room with did, hit the pillow and was out. But after every day of that conference, I met up with Columbia Matt to keep talking and listening. By Saturday, I’d had four full evenings of faux-confession with this stranger that I knew quite a lot about.

“You know, you remind me a lot of him.”

“Who, Dominic?”

“A bit, yeah.”

“Is it my good looks? If so, poor dude.”

“Nah,” I sipped my vodka, my middle finger tapped the glass absentmindedly. “I mean, you two smile similarly. But, I dunno. There’s just something that clicks or – or meshes like it does with him. It’s kind of interesting, so thanks.”

“You’re welcome. That was my evil, diabolical plan the entire time. Lower your defenses and you’d tell me your secrets.”

My face fell a little when I said, “My conference finished up today and I have to fly back to school tomorrow. Just forewarning you so that you don’t get used to my presence here. Not ghosting you, just got to get back to school.”

He tilted his head to the side like he was listening to something in the distance and bit the side of his mouth. “Alright then, I’ll need a pen, something to write on, and a lemon wedge.”

I handed him a pen from my bag and the lemon from my glass. “Why, out of curiosity?”

“You’ll see.” I watched, entranced, as he dabbed the lemon around the edge of a napkin before covering my sightline while he wrote:  
Columbia Matt Murdock  
And then his number.

He handed it to me, proud of himself. “What was the lemon for?”

“Makes the napkin smell lemony fresh, of course.”

I laughed to the point of tears. To spectators, it had to have looked like I was laughing at him…so now I was laughing in hysterics at a blind man and I lost count at the number of dirty looks I received. “Well thank you. Oh my God, I thought you were going to perform some bar magic or something.”

“Nope, no magic. I am blind, remember. But that’s for you,” he pointed in the general vicinity of the napkin. “If you want to talk some more. You aren’t the only one who feels better.” I quickly punched the numbers into my phone and called. He handed me his phone from his jacket and asked if I would put in my name and then redial his number; so I did.

“ _Jen MacDougall. Jen MacDougall. Jen MacDougall,”_ his phone chirped out.

He held out his hand to me and I stared at him, oblivious to what he was doing. “It’s usually customary to shake one’s hand, you know.”

“Didn’t we do this Wednesday night?”

“Not officially.” And that smirk of his, subtle but powerful enough to make me know he felt genuine happiness. “Hi. My name’s Matt Murdock. I’m studying law.”

I clasped his hand and gave it a firm squeeze, allowing our hands to bob amicably in the air. “Jen MacDougall, I’m here on a conference and I’m studying business management. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

I’d met his roommate the night before and he came over with another round. “Seems you two are getting along well.”

“We’ve had formal introductions, so it’s off to a good start,” I joked. The smell of Matt’s whiskey hit me and I realized that’s the drink I wanted instead, but I wasn’t going to say no to a drink I didn’t have to buy. The three of us chatted peaceably to last call. I grabbed my jacket and took them both up on the offer of them waiting with me until a cab showed up. When the chariot did arrive, I turned to them both because I had felt that it was safe and potentially necessary that I do so. “You know, Jen’s my name but not what my friends call me.”  
Matt had opened up the door for me and bobbed his head in question. “They usually call me Mac.”

“Alright then. I’ll have Foggy change it in my phone. Be good and have a safe flight back to Ohio.”

Foggy waved, “Yeah. Make sure you tell your friends we’re super amazing and feel free to embellish all that you want. In a positive light.”

“Bye, Mac. It was nice to see you.”

The door shut and I was on my way. It was true. My friends called me Mac; but I hadn’t let other than Dom call me Mac since middle school.

Throughout the remainder of my schooling, Matt and I would talk back and forth periodically venting about school and life; I at least felt safe talking about things that I didn’t talk to anyone else about. Every year I went back to the conference, I met up with Matt and Foggy every night after the sessions before making my way back to Ohio.

I could have gone right into work; I had offers but I put myself into grad school. I graduated with my masters suma cum laude on an accelerated track at the University of Chicago and was offered a job in running a restaurant from the business end rather than the food end by an owner in in the city. So I went. I worked. I made advances and did my job well. That owner then opened up a restaurant in Soho and thus, I was brought back here to New York.

 

So if you poking around in my skull was about my relationship to figure out what makes me tick or to get dirt on Matt or Dom, I’m sorry to disappoint. But that’s all I’m going to give you. And with that information, it’s not overly useful to you. You’ll have to find me and speak to me face to face to get the rest of my story.

If anything, you should have learned a couple of things about me:

  1. I’m smart. I mean, Christ I graduated from undergrad early _with a_ change in major and finished my MBA in fifteen months. It’s supposed to take nearly a full two years. So. Yeah.
  2. There’s plenty I haven’t told you or purpose. Duh. But I could be a loose cannon…or not.
  3. Matt is my friend.
  4. And D…well, I didn’t really go into it, but I am pretty damn observant. Just take my word for it.



So whatever is that you’re trying to hear me say to myself up there about Matt, me, or Dom…it isn’t going to happen. I don’t even know what you’re looking for. But until further notice, I’ll keep talking about puppies or otters every time I feel you poking around. You’re not going to have another damn sniff at my life.

Besides, like I said…either I’m walking out of here or I’m not. But I will leave you with this last parting thought:  
I just got my right hand free and one of those dumbasses is walking this way.


	2. Life Lessons: LL-202

_February_

Jen sat in the terminal waiting for her flight back to Ohio, Dom on the phone grilling her about her escapades in New York.

“So…like…how bored were you? Did you meet up with any of those dudes your teachers told you to?”

She rolled her eyes and smirked. “Bored to death, yeah. I met up with Michael Duquesne…he’s a restauranteur that’s got restaurants all over the world…and, ah shit…what’s his nuts…I met that dude that owns those cruise ships on the west coast.”

“Sounds exciting,” his lie blatant. “I’m thrilled for you, really. Don’t know how you can contain your excitement.”

“Yeah, but…I participated in a few of the forums and mock business model bullshit things and got noticed…so we’ll see. How was school this week? You said something last week about having to do work on a car?”

“Oh yeah,” she heard him gulp, more than likely, a swig of beer. “I wanted out of my dad’s garage only to come back to a different one and try my hand at body work. I hate it. But, the instructor says that I have a nice eye for it. So…you could say we’re going steady now.”

“Hmph. And how was the date with what’s-her-face?”

“Her name’s Melissa.”

“Of course it is,” she goaded. “How was the movie?”

“Fine. I mean…she liked it. It wasn’t really my thing, but she liked the dinner after. I took her to that Mediterranean place you thought she’d like. You know, I hate vegetables and there was a ton of that shit there. You did that on purpose.”

“Moi?” she acted aghast. “I would _never_. Besides, I was trying to be your wingman of the century.”

“What about you? Do anything fun during your evenings off?”

Jen pondered, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. Luckily her section of the terminal was still fairly vacant. “Well, I did go drinking a bit. That girl, Rachel? Her cousin gave us the name of some bar near Columbia we had to go to, so I tagged along. You remember what time of year it is, right?”

“I’m going to need you to throw me a bone. Keeping your calendar of shit and my calendar of shit straight after all this time is getting to be a pain in the ass.”

“My father…”

“…Ah. That. Yep. Sorry that I forgot.”

“…that’s okay. In any case, I ended up talking to this guy for a good part of the first night I went out. It felt kind of therapeutic to talk about it to a …’cause, like…he doesn’t know who the hell I am. I mean…I didn’t go into super detail about it all: I more or less talked about having daddy issues and how I was lost in my head.”

“Uh-huh. And does this guy have a name?” his voice lifted at the end.

“Yeah, Matt. I call him Columbia Matt and I’m Not-Columbia Jen.” Dom was silent on the other line. “You’re smiling. I can fucking hear it. What? Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?”

“Nothing. Keep going,” he laughed. “I’m listening. Honest. You just don’t normally make friends so easily. And remember their names…so…”

She crossed her arms and began turning her foot at her ankle. “You judge-y bastard.”

Dom laughed harder and caused the receiver to make a crackling sound as he sucked in air. “I’m just amazed. You haven’t told anyone anything like that since me…at least as far as I know. Oh my God. Does this mean I’m not the best friend anymore? Have I been replaced? Do I need to hand in my membership card?”

“You utter ass,” she smiled, creases in her eyes becoming prominent. “Keep this up and your status is revoked.”

“Just the one night?”

“Well, no.” Jen recalled the hours of conversation in a blink of an eye and felt a bit at peace. “I went and talked with him every night.”

“Talked or _talked?”_

“Talked,” her voice flat in reply. “I’m not that easy, Jesus.”

“You can be if you want to be,” he offered in honesty. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, Mac. I – I just mean that you know what you want and when you want it. And if you want it to be easy, it’s not something that bothers you.”

Jen began messing with her nails idly. “Hmm. Guess I should stop telling you about my sex life then.”

“That’d be nice. I’ve wanted that since high school. How about doing that as a belated birthday present. Speaking of,” his volume grew in excitement, “When does your plane get in? I need to know when to leave so I can get your ass at the airport and we can start drinking.”

Her eyes traveled up to the _Departures_ screen and noted that her flight was delayed. Again. “Looks like it’s going to be a while. We can drink next weekend if you want. I’m sorry…I didn’t think that I’d be delayed this long from the rain.”

“That’s okay,” he yawned loudly. “I’ll still pick you up from the airport.”

“No…go to bed, Dom. Seriously. You have class tomorrow. My professor at least is on my flight so if I’m delayed, so is he and can’t hold it against me.”

“Eh…you sure? I know you said that he gives you the creeps…but like…are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. Promise. Go ahead. How about I call you on Friday night instead of Saturday so that we can plan stuff?”

“Alright. Yeah. Hey, beastie, be good and don’t do anything stupid, m’kay?”

“Ha!” she laughed deeply. Her chest rumbled pleasantly. “Can’t make any promises.”

“Mac, fly safe, for reals, okay?”

“Love you, too. I’ll do what I can within my power to make it back in one piece. You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

 

Some time later, Jen sat idly in her seat on the plane waiting for takeoff; her mind performing simple math to guess that she was going to be getting back to her apartment around four in the morning. She plucked her phone from her pocket and fired off an email to her professors, informing them that she would not be going to her morning classes and that she would like to schedule time to meet them at their offices to collect any work missed.

“Always the smart one,” a voice interrupted her thoughts. If a voice could sound and not resonate fully, this man exemplified the action of it. Her eyes flashed up quickly knowing she was going to find Professor Prieto looking over her.  
“Seems I’m sitting next to you; you don’t mind, do you?”

She sent the email and plastered a congenial smile on her face, “Of course not, Professor. Please. I am going to let you know that I am going to try and sleep a couple hours; I’d like to go to my afternoon classes later today. If I doze off, I’m not intending to be rude.”

He situated himself beside her and buckled the strap across his lap. “No harm; no foul. Did you enjoy the conference?”

Something about this man unsettled her from the time she started school though she wasn’t entirely sure what it was. He was certainly knowledgeable and devoted to teaching his subject; and, it was well known throughout the school that if you were in his good graces, you were immediately employed after graduating. He was in his early fifties, had dark green eyes, blond hair, and a small Y-shaped scar at his right temple; he dressed impeccably neat and always looked professional in everything that he did. And yet, Jen couldn’t shake an odd sensation nagging at her gut about this man.

“Yes, I did. Thank you for the opportunity. I know it’s rare for a sophomore to go…and I think that I was able to network well enough in the post-session meet and greets. I met Michael Duquesne and Jeff Sambasa yesterday.”

“Well,” he grinned, “look at you. Well done. Duquesne spoke to me at dinner last night about you. It seems he was very impressed, though he is a bit upset that you’re only a sophomore. I assured him that you would continue to grow, making it a reasonable investment to wait.”

“Wait? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

His head bobbed in understanding. “My apologies, allow me to clarify. He wants to put you in his company now. I explained that I thought it was in your best interest to finish school first considering that by the time you leave the university, you could be a powerhouse all on your own. His investment would be to wait for you to finish _cooking_ , so to speak.”

“Oh. Uh. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, I do believe you said something about getting some sleep. If you do doze, would you like me to wake you up with the beverage cart comes by?”

“Oh, yes, please. Coffee would probably be in my best interest at that point. Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” he flashed a smile. “Get some sleep, Miss MacDougall.”

 

“Jen…Jen?”

_I know that voice…isn’t that Rachel? Oh yes, that’s right. We’re on a plane. Time to wake up.  
_“Hmm? Oh. Hi. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she replied in indifference. “I can’t fall asleep on planes. Too noisy. Anyway, Prieto wanted me to wake you up, said he got you a coffee. Here.” She handed it to her over the seat back. “He ran up to the bathroom and didn’t want it to spill.”

“Thank you…how long have we got left?” The coffee radiated warmth through its paper cup into her fingers, the pleasant numbness evoking a smile on her face.

“ ‘bout an hour and a half.”

“Jesus. Okay.”

“Hey, I know it’s not my business,” she whispered, “but Prieto seems like he’s really into you. Like…are you two a thing?”

“Uh, no,” Jen choked on her coffee. “Not even a little bit. He gave me the opportunity to go to the conference, and I thought it would be a good idea. I mean, I do my work and try to keep my head down. He hadn’t really spoken to me until he asked me about the conference.”

“And you’re – you’re not, like…interested?”

“Uh…no…” her defenses up. “I’m good. I just broke up with a guy a couple of weeks ago.  So…you know…”  
Her mind puzzled at their interaction: Rachel was Preito’s grad assistant and spent far more time with him than anyone else in the school. In fact, rumors were abound about how the two of them were an item and had been since she had been in undergrad. And it made sense: Rachel was drop dead gorgeous with the tongue of a viper, very much Dominic’s type.

“Oh. Hmm. Must have misread the signs, sorry.”

Skeptical, Jen kept sipping her coffee as Rachel turned back in her seat, slouching down from view. After some time, she felt warm and tired, allowing herself to drift off into a heavy sleep.

 

“So?”

Matt sat on the edge of his bed facing Foggy on the opposite side of the room. “So?”

“Mac.”

“Mac?”

“Can you stop repeating everything I say? You definitely have a type, Murdock. How do you always know?”

The corner of Matt’s mouth turned upward, “I don’t know how you think I know what every girl I talk to looks like…maybe they look like your type and they flock to me out of pity.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. And I didn’t mean to interrupt earlier, you know…I know I probably cock-blocked you when I walked over with the last round of drinks.”

“Oh, that? No, you didn’t,” Matt swung his legs into bed and covered himself in his sheet, stuffing his hands behind his head. “I had asked her what she looked like and she started telling me how she is perceived.”

“What do you mean?” Foggy flopped onto his bed, clicking his lamp off.

“I mean, she didn’t describe how she looks. She – she said that she looks like the person you don’t want to piss off and she comes off as aloof…and – and that sometimes her brains get her into trouble because she’s brutally honest or…get this…she looks like the boss, so she usually gets handed all these difficult projects at school because everyone assumes she just will get it done.”

“She gave you a resume and personality profile. That’s…well, you sure do know how to pick ‘em.”

Matt sighed, his eyes searching into the dark while his mind worked in silence. “I told her that, while that was revealing, that’s not what I meant. So she asked me for my hand and leaned across the table so that I could feel her face. That’s when you walked over. She was letting me see her face.”

“Still feel like it was a dick move. I mean, I did score a date with that girl from a few nights ago. At least as a best friend, I could have given you the same courtesy.”

“It’s not quite like that, Fog. We just talked.”

“Right. And I’m the King of Norway.”

“We did, honest!” he laughed. “Why do you think that every woman I talk to for more than five minutes is going to end up shacking up with me for the night?”

“Because you’re a creature of habit, Murdock. And you have a type. And Mac definitely falls into your category.”

“Hmm,” he hummed quietly as sleep started tugging on his body.

Foggy rolled over, his back to his roommate and yawned, “ ‘ou ‘ant ‘e do dell ‘ou ‘at she looks like?”

“Nah,” Matt pondered for a moment. “I already have a pretty good idea. I want her to tell me.”

“Why?”

“Just because.”  _Because I don’t think she ever really looks at herself and likes what she sees, which is kind of interesting. But…she didn’t lie to me. Not once. That’s something, right? Besides, I’ll call her later this week and see if she wants to talk. Maybe I’ll call her Monday._

 

“…up…time…home…” she heard through the fog of sleep. It was Prieto’s voice.

_Christ, are we home already? Why is it so hard for me to wake up? Come on, Jen…get your shit together.  
_“Hmm. I’m up…sorry…” he mumbled, her lids feeling as if they were being weighted with lead. She hadn’t been this tired in a long time…in fact…she couldn’t remember a time when she had been this tired… _naturally_.

“Come on, MacDougall, you’re making a scene,” his voice was stern, almost commanding with an air of disappointment.

“Wait…no…stop…” she slurred. She couldn’t focus on anything, the lights were causing her eyes to strain and water against her wishes.

“She’s got to be drunk. It’s alright. I’m her professor, I’ll see to it that she gets back to school safe.”

“…please…wait…” her tongue felt too thick for her mouth and her head a bowling ball; her heart thundered loudly in her ribcage.

“I’ll get her back, Prieto,” Rachel’s voice chimed in, happily. “Besides, she lives close to me anyway.” She guided Jen off the plane and into the lobby where a wheelchair was waiting for her.  
“Don’t say a word,” Rachel whispered harshly. “Don’t look back. Just relax.”

_Why…wait…I need my things…what’s happening…?_

For the remaining time at the airport, Rachel collected their bags, then stuffed Jen into her car and sped off homeward. “You’re going to be okay…shit…Jen, can you talk to me at all? How are you feeling? Jen?”

“Hmpf, stop making the car spin…” she groaned. She felt nauseous and the turns Rachel was making were not helping with the sudden feeling of dizziness.

“Shit. I fucking knew it,” Rachel hissed. “I’ve got to get you to the hospital.”

 

“That’s what I said,” Rachel’s voice cut through the fog. “I found her like this on the plane, but we had been sitting at the terminal for a while and she had been drinking coffee while we were sitting there. I knew something was wrong when we were getting off the plane and she wasn’t acting right.”

“Alright, I’m going to have to contact the police and let them know. And you said this was at JFK?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I have to hand it to you. Sometimes people shrug off these kinds of symptoms and just assume that they snuck alcohol. But we’ll take a urine sample, send it off to the lab and see if you’re right. For now, we’ve got her hooked up to some fluids. You can sit with her if you like.”

“I have to go prepare for class; I’m a grad assistant. Uh…there’s…there’s a guy that should be here soon. I called him on the way here from her phone. He should be getting here in the next ten minutes, I would think. He’s basically the only family she’s got. I know his name’s Dominic and I have a feeling he’s going to be angry when he gets here.”

“Hmm?” Jen groaned, digging the heels of her hands into her eyes.

“Jen? My name’s Doctor Phillips. You’re in the emergency room. Your friend Rachel brought you here. She believes you were drugged. You’re safe, alright?”

Jen’s panic mode revved up to a million and she shot upright in bed, kicking her way up the gurney in fear. Rachel and the doctor put their arms across her to keep her from moving and urged her to try to be calm. _Drugged? What the fuck?_

“Jen, I got you off the plane and brought you straight here. Do you remember?” Rachel’s question was met with wide eyes.

“She may not; it’s a symptom we see with persons that have been drugged.” When Jen’s heart rate quieted, the doctor checked her vitals and stated that he’d be around in twenty minutes to check on her. “Please stay in bed; there’s someone on their way to take you home.”

When he left, Rachel buried her face in her hands and her hair swished as her head shook. “I can’t fucking believe it. And you may not even remember this, that’s the shitty part.”

“What…are you…talking about?” Jen panted, her eyes glassy as they took in her new surroundings.

“Prieto. He drugged you.”

Her brows knit together and a knot tied her guts together, “What…? But why?”

“He does that…when he thinks he has a student that likes him…fuck…and I bet he expected me to bring you to his house. Shit. I’m so fucked.”  
“Jen, you listen to me, right now,” she growled through tears. “I don’t know how much you’re going to remember in the next few hours, but I need you to listen really carefully: Prieto is a fuck. Stay away from him. Stay in the hospital. I’m going to go and deal with him. You stay here. You’re a good kid. I couldn’t let this happen to you. Because…because it’s fucked up and – and you are such a good kid. Jesus. Stay here.”

In a flurry, Rachel left Jen alone in the hospital. Confused, repulsed, nauseous, and calm are not necessarily the emotions one thinks you would have getting this kind of news, but if she had been drugged, Jen’s mind justified that it was acceptable. What time was it? She couldn’t focus on the clock above the door.  
Her mind began sifting through what she could recollect: _I ate breakfast this morning…went to Times Square with the group and took pictures…we went to Katz’ Deli…checked out…got to the airport…I kind of remember her car…and now I’m here? Why is it so hard to remember?_ Her vision was distorted, she realized, from tears that were falling down her face. _And why am I thinking about my father…I haven’t thought about that…so explicitly…since…what the fuck…what the fuck is wrong with me. What happened to me!?_

A nurse quietly opened the door and popped her head in. “Your brother is here for you.”

“My brother?” Dom  appeared from behind the nurse, his face screwed up in a combination of anger and worry. Jen’s shoulders relaxed and the nurse let him into the room. He walked straight to the bed and wrapped his arms around her tightly, his chin resting on the crown of her head.

“It’s alright, Mac. It’s alright. You’ve got me,” he whispered while her arms gripped his torso tightly. “You’ve got me. I’m not going anywhere.”  
Her shoulders heaved violently in time with her sobs while Dom did his best to console her, but he knew, deep down, that there was enough damage done that it was going to take a while for her to relax. Which is why he would tell her later that he took the whole week off.

 

Her legs were tucked under her and the gray-plaid throw was about her shoulders, a cup of tea in her hands, and Dom’s puttering sound in the kitchen were her state of being. Whatever that meant. He came out after a time and sat on the floor in front of her, his back against her couch and her side, and drank his coffee.

“Didn’t think you’d want coffee just yet. Your friend Rachel said she was pretty sure it was your coffee that got spiked,” he commented, a tentative step to see if she was willing to talk yet.

She slid her hand down to sit on his shoulder while her eyes remained vacant and transfixed on something far away. Dom nodded, sipped his coffee that had at least five tablespoons of sugar in it; resigning to wait.

“Have you heard from her…d – did she call while I’ve been…you know…”

“No.” His voice was so calming even though his mind was running out of control. “The phone hasn’t rung since I got here.”

“Oh.”

“Mac, I’m not going anywhere; okay? I took the week off. I’m going to be here. I’ll sleep on the couch; I already got the blankets and stuff out of the closet. It’s going to be okay. I’ll cook and if you want, give me your phone and I’ll email your professors…tell them…something…you got the flu or something like that.”

“No,” she whispered, her eyes slowly focusing down to him. “I’ll need to go to class. Can’t let him think he won.”

“Who?”

“Someone.”

“Was it that guy you met at the bar?”

“No. That was Saturday…doesn’t…uh…the doctor said this would have been around the time I was getting ready for the plane or at the terminal.”

“Jesus Christ,” he sighed. “I don’t know what to say. I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad that you’re okay.”

She squeezed his shoulder lightly and a faint smile splayed on her lips as he turned to face her. “Me, too. Glad you’re here. I think I’ll run out to school and let my professors know I’m going to take some time off. Like you said, I’m not well. W-would you go grocery shopping?”

“Yeah, sure. Do you want me to come with you to school?” his voice laden with concern.

“Nah. I’ll be in and out; quick. No problem. I’m okay, just a little sluggish, you know?”

“If you say so, beastie. What do you want me to grab from the store?”

 

Jen’s phone buzzed angrily against her glass coffee table. Dom stopped unpacking groceries and answered it.

“Hello?”

_“Oh, I’m sorry; I was looking for Mac. Do I have the wrong number?”_

Dom took a moment and looked at the caller ID before realization dawned on him. “Ah, Columbia Matt. No, you have the right number. She’s just gone over to school for a minute.”

_“So…ah…you might be Dom, right?”_

“Yes,” he nodded, making his way back into the kitchen to finish with the groceries. “That’s me. The man, the myth; the legend.”

_“She talks very highly of you. Uh. Hey, listen, you sound kind of busy and I don’t want to bother…could – could you let her know that I called to see how her flight was? And if she wants to chat, I’m free anytime.”_

“Yeah, I can let her know.” He paused, a feeling nagging at his chest. “Listen, she may not call you for a while and it’s nothing that you did; I just want you to know that.”

_“Is everything alright? Is Mac okay?”_

“She will be. In time. Someone drugged her last night and she’s not really taking it well. She went to school to pick up her work before her midterm exams. Look, don’t tell her I told you. You seem like a pretty normal, sane person and you’re the first person she’s talked about in a long time by name,” he paused. “Mac’s special and if she thinks you’re worth remembering and talking about, then I know you’ve got to be the real deal.”

_“Jesus Christ! Is she okay?!”_

Dom, not realizing it at first, smiled at the sound of his concern. “She will be. She’s Mac. She’ll deal with it the same way she deals with all of her problems.” At that statement, an odd cognizance overcame Dominic and he froze. “Oh my God, I have to go find her. She’s going to do something incredibly stupid.”

 

Dom drove to the college as quickly as he could and began tearing through the business school asking every person he could find if they’d seen Mac. He had been on nearly every floor when finally, someone gave him the answer he was looking for: she’d gone to Prieto’s house to collect her work and drop off paperwork from the conference.

“Could you tell me where that is? I’m her brother and I’m trying to surprise her.”

“Yeah, sure. Here’s the address, hope you find her,” the disinterested undergrad rolled their eyes.

 

Dom approached a decent-sized house on a three-acre lot and saw that the front door was askew. He felt bile rising in his throat and he wasn’t sure which he was more terrified of: what he would do to this person because of what happened or what Mac was doing to them. He could hear the skidding and scuffling of rubber against a floor and the tussle of fabric.

His hand gently pushed the door open, his steps crossing the threshold as silently as he could muster. Shattered vases and picture frames littered the floor and a table was askew from the wall. There was a muffled voice coming from somewhere ahead and then a sickening crack cut through the air. Dom sprinted through the house, “Hello? Is someone there? Your door was open and I heard a commotion…”

Another crack sounded from just ahead before a man stumbled backwards, falling to his knees. His face was split, an eye swollen shut; all in all a very ugly looking mug. Dom’s breathing hitched in his throat when his eyes moved across the room and saw Jen standing there panting without a scratch visible on her person.  
“Mac,” the air rushed from his body and he felt infinitesimally small in comparison to what was happening. “Don’t.”

“You aren’t supposed to be here. Not yet at least.”

“You can’t do this; I know you’re angry.”

“Help me,” the man on the ground pled, his voice shaking.

Dom’s eyes briefly moved to meet his and he felt his lip curl into a sneer. “I would be doing the same thing to you had I got to you first, you sick fuck.” He pulled his face in disgust when the man on the floor peed himself.

“Look what he did to Rachel,” she nodded over her shoulder. She watched as Dom’s gaze shifted and she saw her anger reflected in his eyes. “She’s alive, but she needs a doctor.”

“Please… help me,” Prieto cried.

She pulled her arm back and drove her knuckles into the side of the professor’s face. “Stop talking.”

“Mac, stop. You can’t!” Dom shouted, pointing a warning finger at her. “I won’t let you throw away your life because of this scum bag!”

“Does it terrify you, Prieto? Hmm? Do you feel fear yet?” she hissed.

When Jen pulled her other arm back, Dom took a step forward and growled, “Enough, Mac! Look at me! Now!”

“No,” she snapped back. “If I look at you, I won’t be able to start again.”

“Mac!” She ignored him, her teeth gnashing into a snarl. “Jennifer, you fucking look at me right now!”

_My fucking heart, Dom; you went right for the jugular there, didn’t you?_ Her eyes slowly lifted to find his and she felt the auxiliary emotions come forward to push her rage aside. “How many women, Dom? And Rachel!”

“I know,” he took another tentative step, his hand outstretched to her. “I can’t imagine how you feel and I don’t know what to say to make it better; but – but I know that if you do this…I’m gone. You won’t see me ever again. And if that’s the only way I can make you see how bad this is, then I’m willing to do it. I love you, Mac; but I am _not_ going to let you throw everything that you’ve done away because of this prick.”

His voice was calm, but she could see his torment on his face. He wasn’t the best at hiding his emotions and always wore them on his sleeve. “He deserves it,” she argued, her voice shaking.

“I know he does,” he took another step. “Mac, give me your hand. Please. Don’t let him turn you into someone like him. Don’t let him turn you.”

“I’ve got a monster in me, Dom. You said so yourself. The Wolf…I just want to let it out. “

“No…you don’t.” Another step. He was close enough he could nearly touch her, an energy radiating off of her. “Because you’re not a monster. You’re better than that. I can’t let you kill him even if he deserves it. It can’t be you, Mac.”

“Why not,” she cried. Her lip trembled as she fought to regain control of her emotions. “Why can’t I fix this?”

“Mac, give me your hand,” Dominic commanded firmly, eyes never breaking away from hers. “It’s alright; I’m not going anywhere if you’ve got my hand. Please, Mac…please…take my hand.”

Her fingers shook, her mind racing in all directions, as her arm stretched out toward him. When her fingertips touched the palm of his hand, his fingers snapped tightly over hers and his arm yanked her close to him.  
“I’m sorry,” she cried. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry; I’m sorry…” she kept crying into his chest like a broken record.

His arms wrapped around her shoulders and he pressed a kiss to her hair, “It’s alright, Mac. We’ll get through this. You’ll get through this. I’ll help you however I can. I love you, you know. It’s alright. Shh. You’ve got me; I’m not going anywhere.”

In the distance, Dom picked up on the sound of sirens and tires digging into gravel. _She called the cops. Of course she did. Christ, Mac._ Dom fished an old phone from her pocket and listened to the recording before the cops showed up.

_“You drugged me,” Jen’s voice stern and angry came over the speaker._

_“So what, you think anyone’s going to believe you? Plenty of women have come to enjoy what I do to them.”_

_“I heard crying inside and it sounded like Rachel. Where is she?”_

_Prieto’s voice sounded snide and prideful. “It doesn’t concern you, MacDougall. I suggest that you leave before your tenure at the university is called into question.”_

_“You’re going to hold my education over me if I don’t walk away? You’re a scumbag.”_

_“I’ve been called far worse by loads of other women; and, they all come crawling my way eventually. Consider this your first task, Jennifer: ultimately you could have Rachel’s position…and be in the positions I ask her to be in if you play your cards right.”_

_“You’re sick,” she snapped. There was a muffled sound on the speaker and her voice rang in clear, “Don’t touch me.”_

_“I will do whatever I want; that’s how this arrangement works, woman. Now, do as I say.”_

_“I said don’t touch me!” she shouted before the recording went dead._  
  


He forced his eyes shut to help quell the anger as it rose in his throat. _Smart, Mac; as ever. Always smart. Stupid…but smart._ “Shh. It’s going to be okay. You’ve got me.”

The police and ambulance came in a flurry of organized chaos. Jen sat on one of the dining room chairs as people moved to and fro, adrenaline plummeting to leave her in a state of mild euphoria and shock. Her knuckles were beginning to ache, but it was nothing in comparison to the pain that she knew Rachel was feeling.

“A girl from the college told me that she had come here to ask for work and I got locked out of the apartment, so I came over here to ask Jen for the key. And that’s when I heard the scuffle and came into the house. The door was open and I announced I was here,” Dom told the inspector.

“And you found her like this?”

“Yeah,” Dom replied, his blue eyes moving toward Jen’s vacant expression. “She used to do martial arts when we were kids. She was really good.”

At the same time, another inspector was asking Jen similar questions to try and get the entirety of the story. “So, you came here for your work…even though you’d been at the same conference with him last week?”

“Yes; he said that there was a packet I needed since I was going to be out for today and possibly the rest of the week. I was drugged yesterday on the plane home.”

The inspector wrote down something in her notepad and looked over Jen’s face and hands. “And when you got to the premises?”

“He was acting weird, a-and I heard crying from inside that sounded like Rachel…so I asked and he got nasty…”

“Was this before or after you accused him of drugging you?”

“Before.”

“How did you end up in the house?”

“He grabbed me and pulled me inside. That’s when I told him not to touch me and – and I saw Rachel on the floor.” _I mean, that’s true. I can be remiss and not mention that I let him pull me into the house so that I could have an alibi_.

“And what made you defend yourself?”

“He tried to bend me over that table in the front hall…that’s why there’s broken stuff. I – I started fighting back. I have a recording on my old phone. Take it. Do whatever you need with it.”

For the better part of an hour, the police took their evidence, photographs, and asked questions. Rachel was sent to the hospital and eventually, Dom and Jen were released to go home. They confiscated her phone as evidence, but it was a small sum to pay in order to get Prieto behind bars. Dom was told that he would need to be able to come in for further questioning and not to travel too far away from home.

 

When the pair returned to her apartment, Jen walked straight to her computer and emailed her professors for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, excusing herself from her classes for the rest of the week and, that pending what the police department said, she would be able to go into further details later.

“Damn it, Mac,” Dominic hissed at her. “What were you thinking?”

“Really. Do you really want to do this right now?”

“Yes, I fucking want to go through this right now!” he raised his voice, hands on his waist. “You were willing to kill that son of a bitch and throw everything away! There are always assholes, Mac! You know that, of all people!”

“Me of all people,” she snapped, her eyes turning into slits. “Oh yeah, that’s right. Sexual abuse as a kid, silly me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he sighed in regret. “And you know it. Mac, you’re so smart, what were you doing?”

She stood defensively, arms at her side but her feet apart, ready for whatever he was going to throw her way. “I was doing what I had to – to…I don’t know, Dom! I can’t fucking feel anything!” She unzipped her hoodie and threw it onto the table, revealing red marks and the early shadows of bruising on her arms and chest.

“Mac…” Dom lamented. “Jesus Christ.”

“Don’t,” she warned. “Just…don’t. I’m going…to get a shower and get him off me. Just…don’t.”  
Jen walked into her bathroom and slammed the door, angry at herself and her best friend without really being able to verbalize why. The bathroom was blanketed with a thick layer of steam but she didn’t feel that the water was hot enough to get her skin sterilized from Prieto’s touch. Once she felt that she’d scrubbed every inch of her skin and melted all traces of him away, she pressed her forehead to the cool tile and let the water cascade down her body.  
_Why am I so angry? Is it because I wanted to kill him and I was stopped…or because I didn’t do enough to him before Dom got there…or what…is it because I liked giving him what he deserved? And why am I taking all of this out on Dom? He’s the one who came to rescue me, like always._

She emerged from the bathroom akin to Vader emerging from the shadows and looked into the living room. Dom sat on the couch, head in his hands and tears in his eyes. She felt bad that she’d brought him to feeling this way. Jen walked into her kitchen, grabbed two spoons and fished a pint of ice cream from the freezer before sitting beside him.

“I’m sorry,” she offered with the tap of a spoon on his forearm. He sat up, rubbed his face and took the spoon from her.

“I know you are,” he replied quietly. “You scared me today.”

“Oh.”

He sunk into the corner and pulled her into his shoulder, covering them both with a blanket. She passed him the ice cream when he clarified his previous statement. “Not because you scare me…but because I thought I was going to lose you. You’ve been the one constant in my life with the exception of my dad and – and I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t around.”

“Oh,” she replied with a more relaxed tone. Some of the tension she had dissipated from her shoulders. “I see.”

He passed her the ice cream and sighed. “I fucking hope so. Don’t you ever do that to me again, Mac. I know that a lot of shit’s happened to you in the past twenty-four…but don’t you ever, _ever_ make me think about believing that I’m losing you down some rabbit hole that you won’t be able to claw your way out of. I don’t ask shit from you, ever. But you better promise me, right now, Mac; I can’t watch that happen to you. Not after what happened to my mom.”

Jen wedged herself into his side and nodded. “I hear you. I – I promise that I will do my best not to disappoint you…I can promise that and mean it. Dom, I’m sorry.”  
Memories of their conversations came flooding back: his mother had gone clinically insane and had tried to kill him when he was a toddler, forcing his dad to have her committed and taken from their home. He always said he’d adjusted and pretended that she’d died in a crash or something, but then again, Dom was a terrible liar. He had always had a fear that Jen was going to be taken from him that he wasn’t always able to articulate well.

“You don’t have to apologize for what you did. I would have done it had I got there faster.”

“I’m not sorry about what I did to him…I’m sorry that I hurt you…I didn’t mean to.”

He sighed again, the adrenaline finally dissipating in his blood. “I know. I just…I got scared and angry and – and for a few minutes, I didn’t know what I was going to do and that was terrifying.”

“I know what that feels like,” she yawned, stretching to set the empty pint onto the coffee table. “And I’m sorry that you felt that way.”

“Hmm,” he nodded before leaning his head back onto the couch. “It’s been a day.”

“Yeah, it has.”

“What time is it?”

She squinted at the clock in the kitchen and groaned. “Eleven thirty…shit.”

“What now?”

“I was supposed to call my mother for my monthly lecture on how I’m throwing my life away and shit.”

He chuckled and fished his phone from his pocket. “I got this; hang on.” He scrolled down and found her mom’s number and pressed dial, pressing the phone to his ear.  
“Hi, Mrs. MacDougall. I know it’s late; yes, I know…well, I would explain if you would just…” he rolled his eyes, “Yes…no, I know….” Jen could hear her mother berating him over the phone.  
“Will you just shut the fuck up for a minute?!” He looked down to Jen and groaned. “She was drugged and attacked today. Yes, she’s fine. Thank God you put her through those karate lessons… No, she’s home. She’ll call when she’s ready…Yep. Uh-huh…Well, I can’t guarantee that she’s going to listen to me in that regard, but I’ll pass it along when she gets out of bed…Yes, I’m staying here…On the couch…all week, I already called off from school…yes…of course not! I’m not leaving her alone…Yes. I know. Alright…goodnight.”  
He tossed his phone on the side table and smirked. “Ta da.”

“You’re the best,” she yawned, the back of her head resting against his shoulder. “I should have you call her all the time.”

“Fuck that shit,” his eyes closed, his head leaning back. “By the way, props to you for taking your old phone with you. I know it doesn’t make calls, so I’m guessing you called from his phone?”

“I’d forgotten about it, actually. I got in the habit of carrying it around when I was still playing tuba all the time; now I just use it to record lectures and stuff…and yeah…I was able to dial the cops when his phone slid across the kitchen floor during the scuffle.”

“Still. Glad you had it.”

“I should go to bed so that you can get some sleep.”

“I need you to stay right there, beastie,” his voice beginning to sound heavy from exhaustion. He draped an arm across her shoulders and pulled her close to him.

“I’m fine. I’m not going to go do anything stupid.”

“But I might. You’ve got me if you stay on this couch.”

“Okay. I can do that. I’ll turn the lights off and be back in a moment.”

“Good.” Dominic heard her puttering around, switching lights off and double checking her front door’s lock. “Oh, by the way…didn’t think to mention this earlier…” she flopped onto the couch and situated herself back to her original position. “Matt called and I got to talk to him. You should probably call him back tomorrow. He was worried about you.”


	3. A Year in Review

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I was going to update every two weeks. I lied this week....sorry/not sorry.

_Late June_

“So, my boss wants me to go with him to Vegas in a couple weeks to go golfing,” Dom whined from the pool’s edge. He rested his chin on his forearms in an effort to gain sympathy.

“I don’t think you should go,” Melissa, his girlfriend, chimed in from the lounge chair. “You promised that we were going to go to your dad’s lake house.”

“To be fair,” Jen interjected from the raft she was floating on, “He’s still in school and this could benefit him. Who knows, maybe he gets a promotion out of it!” Dom turned his head and stuck his tongue out at her and did the same. “I’m just saying…do what you want, but this could be good for you.”

Melissa rolled her eyes and went back to looking at her phone. “Sure, whatever she says. Why would you listen to me? I’m only your girlfriend.”

“That’s not fair,” Dominic hopped out of the pool and stood in front of her. “I’m taking what she said under advisement, but I still want to go to the lake for the week.”

She slammed her phone down onto the chair causing Jen to pull her sunglasses down her nose to see what was going on. Melissa sat up, irked, itching for a spat. “No, _Dominic_ ,” she sneered, “You’re going to do whatever she wants. Always whatever she says…it’s like you can’t think for yourself…you always want to know what she thinks before you ever make any decisions!”

“That’s not true,” he defended, crossing his arms across his body. “I’m pretty good at deciding what I want for breakfast every day.” Jen had to restrain a guffaw painfully in her chest.

She threw her hands up, exasperated, and stood; an accusatory finger digging into his chest. “You never do anything for me…like…ever…and I’m pretty sure you’ve been cheating on me with her. I mean, just look at the way she’s flaunting herself.”

Dom looked over his shoulder skeptically to find Jen floating idly around, in her bikini top and a pair of volleyball shorts and a beer in hand. Jen shrugged and replaced her sunglasses back over her eyes and resumed floating around. “Oh yeah, she looks like a real threat. She’s in shorts and you’re in a thong…she’s definitely your competition. Liss…look, she’s my best friend and I’ve never cheated on you; and I sure as hell have never slept with Mac.”

“True story,” Jen chimed in.

“I’m sorry that you feel this way, but…can we just talk it over? I don’t know what you want me to do right now.”

“I want you to pay attention to me and do what I want!” she whined loud enough that her voice was grating. “I want you to stop talking to her and start focusing on the future rather than the past.”

Jen didn’t move because, in all fairness, this was Dom’s deal. He’s the one that wanted to date the drop-dead-gorgeous waitress from the diner despite her having tons of attitude and the potential for being verbally venomous. All that aside, she could now see a shift in the way he carried himself: he stood taller, his shoulders seemed more square; he looked bigger than he was.  
“You want me to what?”

“You heard me. It’s me or her. And since you’re so good at decisions, make it right now.”

“Bye,” he snapped.

“What?” her voice reaching unparalleled volume and pitch. “You are choosing that bitch over me?”

“Absolutely. She would never ask me to choose because she knows that if I love someone enough, I won’t have to and that they’d understand. So, yeah. Bye, Melissa. Get the fuck off my dad’s property. Bye,” he bit back at her with a wave of his hand.

“You don’t even know what you’re going to be missing,” she seethed, gathering her things and slipping her sandals back on. “And you!” she shouted at Jen. “I hope you’re happy! You ruined everything.”

“I’m pretty sure that you’re doing that all on your own, sweetheart,” Jen replied casually. She wasn’t paying attention as Melissa hurled her beer at her head and was relieved when Dom had reached out to catch it without falling into the pool.

“Get the fuck out, Melissa, and don’t call me.”

“Fuck you, Dominic. And fuck you, too!” she yelled, red in the face at Jen.

“Nah, I’m good, thanks. You aren’t my type,” Jen smirked. She heard the characteristic smack of flip-flops thwacking against concrete as Melissa stormed away doing her best to audibly convey her anger as acutely as possible.  
“Dom, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, grabbed a beer from the cooler and stepped down into the pool, grabbing his raft and hopping on. Dominic stretched out and rolled gracelessly onto his stomach and sipped from his can. “She’s been cheating on me for a few weeks with the new guy at work.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Dunno. I guess I was hoping she would be honest with me. Thanks to you, that’s a high expectation I have in the opposite sex, so it’s your fault.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry that such an unforgiveable trait is so desired,” she jabbed. “On the real though, you okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’ll be fine. I was planning on talking about it with her tomorrow at her place, but I’m glad she started this shit now. Now I can go golfing _and_ go to the lake without out her bitching at me.”

She knew that he was doing his best to make light of the situation, but she could sense how hurt he had been over the past few weeks and hadn’t been able to figure it out. At least now he was going to heal and hopefully, in time, find someone that he deserved.

 

“So, what are your plans this summer?”

_“Oh, I dunno. Probably take in the sights of New York and whatnot. You know. Typical stuff.”_

“Doesn’t taking in the sights usually indicate the use of functioning eyes,” she jabbed innocently.

_“Ouch. And with the zinger at the end…right to the heart.”_

She rolled her eyes as she kept cleaning her apartment. She had Matt on speaker and the phone was tucked nicely in the shoulder strap of her tank top. “You know, you’re the one that told me to treat you the same way I treat everyone else. That includes my poor taste in humor.”

Murdock laughed, _“I remember. And I’m glad that you do. But, eh…I don’t know. I might try to get a leg up on the coursework for next year. Foggy’s family has invited me to spend some time with them over the break so that I’m not entirely on my own. And then the nun over at Saint Agnes said she’d have some things for me to do if I got bored.”_

“Really? Like what?”

_“Well, it’s an orphanage…so whatever she wants, really. I don’t know if I told you, but…I uh…grew up there.”_

She stopped scrubbing her counter and wiped her hands on her legs. “No, you didn’t mention it. Do you want to talk about it? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

_“I actually called you,”_ he chuckled uncomfortably, _“To see how you were doing and if you were coming out to New York this summer, not to talk about myself.”_

“I understand that,” Jen moved to sit on the couch, running a hand through her hair. “But I hear I’m a great listener. Some blind guy told me so.”

_“Ha ha,”_ he jabbed. _“I don’t know. Maybe not today, if that’s okay…I mean, I’m sure I’ll tell you about it eventually…I’d just prefer not to do it over the phone.”_

“Fair enough. As far as coming out to New York, probably not this summer. I’m working over at one of the office buildings in town as an _intern_ ,” she flexed her fingers in quotations. “And yes, I totally did air quotes just then. I’m making twice as much as the other interns, because I’m a boss, and I’m working fifty or so hours a week. It’s my day off.”

_“Does this mean I’m special since you carved out time to talk to me?”_

“You’re something. Wait, are you asking me if you’re special or _special_?” His laugh caused her to grin. That laugh had the inane ability to turn her day around and make her feel better; most of the time he was laughing at some point when they talked.

_“If I wanted those kind of insults, I could just call Foggy…though he usually apologizes an hour or so later. You don’t apologize Why do I tolerate such atrocities from you? You might be doing a number on my self-esteem, Mac.”_

She crossed herself, “I’m doing no such thing and if you really think that, then you’re a pansy and nowhere near as cool as I thought you were.”

_“Did you just say that you think I’m cool?”_

“Uh. No. You misheard. Your ears must be going blind, too.”

_“I don’t know if you know this, but that’s called deafness. It’s an interesting term. Glad I could enlighten your day a bit.”_

“Jesus, okay. That’s it. Phone time’s over, Murdock.”

_“You think I’m cool. You said so. I’m telling everyone. I’ll go shout it from the Empire State Building to all of New York. Two people in the whole world think I’m cool.”_

“Foggy doesn’t count.”

_“You bet your ass Foggy counts. That’s fifty percent of my support group. No way I’m letting that slide by.”_

“Bye, Matt. I’m hanging up now.”

_“I’ll call you sometime in the next week or so. I can’t believe you think I’m cool. Me! I feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I’m going to mark this down as a national holiday…”_

She hung up the phone, tossed it onto the couch and got back to cleaning, a small grin on her face.  
_What a dweeb._

 

_August_

“Dom, it’s not anything. We just talk…the same way that you and I do,” Jen groaned as he blocked the doorway to her apartment. “It’s nothing. I didn’t sleep with him when I was in New York or you would have heard about it.”

“Well, that’s the fucking truth,” he grinned. “I’m just saying, you talk to that guy and you’re, like, a fairy princess for the next couple weeks walking on air.”

“That’s an odious charge, dear.”

“ _Odious?_ What kind of word is that? I no smart. I need them thar simple words,” he teased.

“Scandalous, terrible, dreadful…I am not a fucking fairy princess…ever.”

“Oh, okay,” he threw his head back in laughter. “You talk to him the same way you talk to me?”

“Yep,” she tapped her foot in impatience while waiting to be allowed into her apartment.

“Funny. I don’t think you smile as much when we’re talking. _And_ you don’t answer my phone calls after the first ring.”

She pursed her lips in a mock scowl and shoved past her best friend, depositing her groceries onto the counter. “You’re right, I pick yours up after the second ring. One ring means you’re drunk dialing me…two rings means it’s a legit phone call.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” he jabbed his hand into her side eliciting a satisfactory jump and scowl from her. “But I’ve been begging you to play tuba at school so that I could come to concerts for two years. He tells you that he thinks it’s a good idea and suddenly, you’re signed up for one of the groups at school.”

“I appreciate multiple opinions.”

“Oh no, honey,” he leaned his elbows on the counter, head in his hands with a grin. “You got it bad.”

She threw a bag of hot dog buns at his face. “I don’t _got_ anything. I appreciate having you both to confer with and talk about stuff. You’re the one that’s always bitching that I don’t have any friends. Well, now I have two and one of them is still my best friend.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” He stood and placed the hot dog buns on top of the fridge, ignoring her defense. “Whatever you say.”

“You know, I don’t have to feed you. I could kick you out of my apartment.”

“You could try.”

Her eyes shifted to the side and a smug smile splayed on her lips. “Well, there is a spot in the woods…if you think you still got it, old man. You’re twenty-one now. I hear it’s all downhill from there.”

“You agreed that you were going to take it easy on the fighting thing after what happened with _him_ ,” he cautioned, eyebrows up in surprise. “And that’s the first time you’ve talked to me about fighting since. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that you can take care of yourself…but you promised.”

“You’re right, sorry,” she bit her bottom lip. “I guess…it’s a habit? I’ll break it.”

“Good. Now, are you still pissy or should I get out two sets of plates and silverware for dinner? Because…I’ve got some shit to tell you and I need you to be prepared for my entire emotional dump on you…”

Her head turned quickly, eyes calculating the level of alarm in his posture, “What happened?”

“Melissa…”

“…yeah…you two got back together last month…she apologized…said something was up. You guys seem like you’re in a good place at the moment,” she led carefully. She hadn’t entirely forgiven Melissa for cheating on Dom but he had been willing to give her another chance which meant that Jen would have to do the same.

“She’s…well…I’m...”

“Dom. Jesus,” her voice breathless.

“You think I’ll be a good dad?”

 

_“Foggy brought a whole bunch of food from his parents’ shop, so I’m pretty sure we’re set for the next two days.”_

“Two days? It sounds like you have half a grocery store in your room and it’s going to last two days?”

_“Three, if we pace ourselves,”_ Foggy chimed in from somewhere else in the room. Matt had Jen on speakerphone while the pair worked on putting things away. _“Matt, those are bagels, not doughnuts. Here, give me those.”_

“Wow. Here I am in Ohio, slumming it on cereal and milk for breakfast and bags of ramen for my other meals until my paychecks come in. Woe is me.”

_“I think this is pastrami. Oh my God, did your parents send deli stuff, too?”_

She chuckled and finished packing her lunch. “Keep rubbing it in, Murdock. See if I answer your phone call next time.”

_“Don’t worry, you will,”_ Foggy teased. _“It’s his charm; he always gets the ladies to answer the phone.”_

_“Foggy, are you serious…and what the hell is in this?”_

She heard Foggy sniff loudly and gag, _“I think that’s pickled something. We’re not eating that. Unless we’re desperate…around finals?”_

“ _Or never,_ ” Matt gagged.

“Now I’m really envious. I need to know what it is so that I can send you both crates of it when you tease me.”

_“Now, hang on a second…damn it!”_ Matt hissed before the sound of glass shattering came over the phone.

“Are you alright? Don’t move. Do you have shoes on?” she asked quickly, pausing in her ministrations to listen more closely.

_“I’m fine, I just dropped a jar of that gross shit all over the floor. Oh God. It smells so bad. Kill me now.”_

“That’s a sin,” she reminded smartly. “I hear that’s a bad thing. So don’t do that.”

Foggy was dry heaving in the distance, _“Oh God. It’s on everything. Burn it. All. With fire. Oh Jesus. What are we going to do? This has got to be the absolute worst.”_

“It could be worse,” she heard glass being swept up. “It could be on your clothes.”

Matt grumbled, _“Well thank you for that. I’ll have you know that whatever it is…it’s now on my socks and my socks are wet and I’m grossed out. I need a shower.”_

_“I’m almost done, Matt. Don’t move.”_

_“No, I thought I’d just take a stroll.”_

_“Well, you could impress people and be a glass-walker instead of a fire-walker, but I’m not pulling any glass out of your feet. I have to draw the line somewhere in this friendship.”  
“There. Done. Jesus, you smell.”_

“Well, well, well…karma strikes the virtuous Matthew after gloating about your edible prizes. How does that feel?”

_“To be honest…damp…and smells like something died in vinegar. So, you tell the big guy upstairs that we’re square. Next time, please send a lightning bolt instead; it couldn’t be this bad.”_

“ _You’re being a drama queen, Murdock,”_ Foggy’s voice was jovial albeit a little disgusted from the smell. _“It’s not that bad.”_

_“Your sense of smell isn’t as keen as mine. Oh God…I think it’s burning my sinuses.”_

“Go get a shower then, you big baby. Foggy, why don’t you mop the floor while he’s out of the room? Be a pal. I’m all for torturing the blind guy, but sometimes even I have to have a heart.”

_“Aren’t you just the picture of a saint,”_ Matt taunted. She heard him shuffling around with something, she assumed a towel and clothing, before the phone was taken off speaker and put to his ear. _“When does school start?”_

“Tomorrow; you?”

_“Wednesday. No idea why…but that’s what they’re doing. Hey, I wanted to ask you something,”_ she heard the door open and close as he walked to the shower. _“If you get that opportunity again, would you be willing to come back to New York for that conference? Foggy looked it up for me and said that it’d be held in February again. I mean, I know that the tail end of the last time you were here sucked…but…you know…”_

“Columbia Matt Murdock, do you miss me? Aww…that’s adorable.”

_“That’s not what I meant. At all. Not even a little bit._ ”

She grabbed her keys and lunch, and headed out the door to her car. “Now, that’s a lie. I can hear it. You’re lying a little bit, Matthew. You’ll have to go to confession for that one.”

_“I do think it’s a little creepy that you can tell when I’m not being one hundred percent honest…to be fair.”_

Her car started readily and she moseyed her way into work. “Says the dude with a _keen_ sense of smell and hearing like a bat.”

_“It’s not exactly that good, you know. That’d be weird.”_

“Whatever. Admit it, you miss me and my sparkling persona a little bit.”

_“Nope.”_

“Not even a little bit?”

_“Mac, I’m going to hang up on you.”_

“Aww…Matt…that’s adorable.”

_“Oh God. This is agony. I smell and you’re doing whatever it is that you’re doing to me. This – this has got to be a taste of hell.”_

She checked her mirrors, grinning, “Well, if it’s hell, at least you’ve got decent company. God, you’re cranky when you want a shower. College has really changed you as a person.”

_“That’s it. I’m hanging up.”_

“ ‘kay, bye. Go make yourself pretty. I’ve got to go to work and make that money. Hopefully they give me my pay this week, otherwise I’m going to have to get really creative in how I go about getting my books this semester.”

_“You could try hooking.”_

“Says the potential lawyer? Isn’t that like, I dunno, a conflict of interest? And against your morals?”

_“Nah. I’d come represent you at court and take on the industry for unjust prices. ‘Look what you’ve made America’s youth do for higher education’!”_

“Well, thanks. You’re the real MVP, aren’t you? And Matt?”

_“Yeah?”_

“I miss hanging out with you, too. Go get a shower. I think I can smell you from here.”

 

_November_

Jen sat in the dean’s office with a handful of other students that had applied to go to the New York conference. There were twenty or so of them crammed into the office, all of them talking excitedly amongst themselves about how they were sure they’d be chosen. All of them, except Jen.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for coming. As you know, the selection process for us to narrow down those going this conference is finite, and the school of business and I would like to acknowledge the eight students that made the cut this year due to their grades, real world application of their education, and an exemplary demonstration of knowledge with mandatory project.”  
“For an outstanding dedication to the school of business, the faculty and I would like to offer the first spot to Jennifer MacDougall for having the highest achieving score in over twenty years…”

“Are you kidding me? She got to go last year!”

“It’s not fair,” another classmate griped.

“Enough,” Rachel’s voice cut through the noise. “If the faculty and staff believe that Jen is the best candidate then she is. I have no problem with her going. I believe that she’s proven herself academically and ethically to be the best candidate.”

“Thank you, Rachel,” the dean commended.

“If it’s so much of an inconvenience,” Jen’s voice cool, “Perhaps it would be best had I not dealt with the inconvenience of Prieto; or has that been entirely forgotten? Apologies, Doctor Hensen; I didn’t realize my classmates were into petty _bullshit_ as opposed to the real reason why we’re here: to learn something.”

The room grew dead silent; Doctor Hensen cleared his throat to break the silence. “I’m not dismissing the actions taken by Miss MacDougall or…”

“…or how I could have filed a lawsuit against this university; so there’s that. In any case, if any of the rest of you feel that my academics and work ethic don’t qualify me for the top spot, please say your piece now. Just know that if that’s the case, then I should expect that every single one of you will no longer be needing my tutoring anymore.”  
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have classes to prepare for.”

 

“ _You did what_ ,” Dom shouted. “ _Are you kidding me right now, Mac? You could lose your spot or tuition for shit like that!”_

“I wasn’t just going to let them act like that and get away with it, especially after the bullshit I had to deal with last year. And Hensen knows for a fucking fact that I have every ability to sue the university…even if I haven’t done so.”

_“Mac, that was stupid.”_

“Matt said that I need to not let people walk all over me, and I agree. The university thinks that I’m so fragile and that I’m their next potential cash cow if I do well, I’m not stupid.”

“ _Jesus. Do you hear yourself right now? You’re trying to blame this on Matt giving you an inspirational pep talk. You and I both know that’s a pile of shit: you’ve been itching to fight for months…and you’re using that fucking mind of yours to find a damn loophole. You think that this is better?”_

“It’s not,” she snapped. “But I don’t think you realize how it all sits and keeps piling on…it almost gets to the point that I can’t breathe…and – and I can’t even call for help or scream.”

_“Then take up fucking yoga or something. You’re insane!”_

“Yeah, I might be,” she seethed. “Thanks for bringing that up.”

_“Mac, I – I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I said that and I was angry…”_

“Doesn’t mean that you’re not thinking it. When you’re done having your head up your ass, give me a fucking call. I’m going to the gym. Maybe you stewing in this shit you started will give you an idea of what it feels like to be me sometimes. Call me when you’re pull your head out of your ass.”

 

_Thanksgiving_

“He’s not talking to me and I left it up to him to call when he was done being a little shit.”

_“I think you should call him an apologize, Mac. He’s your best friend and I think this is the longest you’ve not talked to each other. At least that you’ve mentioned to me.”_

“You better not be dishing out any of that Catholic bullshit, Matthew,” Jen’s voice strained. “I’m really not in the mood.” She sat in her apartment, alone, a bottle of rum sitting on her coffee table, two-thirds of the way empty.

_“You’re drinking, I would guess. You’re not usually this mad at me for giving you advice.”_

“So what? Are you going to give me a lecture about it, too?”

_“No. I…uh…not about something like that, I wouldn’t.”_

He sounded hurt and guilt sank onto her heart. “Sorry.”

He sighed, “ _Me, too. Mac…I know that you love him…he’s your best friend. And you said the baby was due in January…his head’s got to be running in a thousand different directions and he said something out of turn.”_

“I guess.”

_“Look, I can hear that you’re hurting. Call him. Today. As soon as I hang up. Promise?”_

“Promise.”

 

Jen knocked on a front door with a six-pack in hand, Mr. Bonner answered. “Jennifer! Dominic didn’t tell me that you were coming. Dominic? Dom!” he shouted. “Get down here now!”

Dominic’s feet shuffled down the steps and he stopped abruptly at the bottom. “Wow,” he crossed his arms. “It took a lot for you to pull your head out of _your ass_ to come over here. Who do I have to send flowers to for that? Is it him? I bet it’s him. At least he talked some sense into you.”

“Dom, I – I’m sorry. I was angry.”

“Now, you two listen to me right now. It is Thanksgiving and the two of you haven’t had a spat like this in a long, long time…I want you two to stow whatever it is. You,” he pointed at his son, “Are going to welcome your _best friend_ into this house with a hug and you will like it. And you,” his attention turned to Jen, “Are going to be civil and gracious, even a bit humble. By the end of dinner, you two are going to make up and get along with your lives. I’ll be damned if some disagreement is going to pull the two of you apart after this long.”

“You’re not serious,” Dom sighed.

“Very. I’d make up sooner rather than later.” Mr. Bonner walked out of the room to attend the turkey, leaving his two _children_ alone.

Jen stood, quietly in the doorway, her eyes down at the ground. “I am sorry. Matt just needed to give me the push I needed to remember that I’m an asshole when I’m angry.”

“Yeah, you are. Do you know how worried I’ve been about you? How angry I was at you and how much I hated myself for it?” his voice strained, his hands on his waist, and anguish was visible in his face.

Jen peered up, sheepish and set the beer inside the doorway. “I’m sorry, Dom. I’m so sorry.”

When tears welled in her eyes, he extended his hand to her. “You’ve still got me, beastie,” he whispered. “If you take my hand, you’ve still got me.”

She ran into the house, wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her face into his shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry, Dominic.”

“I know. I know. It’s okay. You’ve got me. I may get angry at you sometimes…but I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I can’t hate mini-me’s godmother, can I?”

“Godmother?” she squeaked. “Melissa’s okay with that?”

“Yeah, we talked about it. She gets to pick the godfather. We’ve already agreed on the names if it’s a boy or girl.”

“What are they?”

“It’s a surprise. You’ll find out when the baby’s born,” he smiled. “Come on. She’s having Thanksgiving with her folks, but said she’d be over for dessert. I need the important women in my life under the same roof.”


	4. Conference: Party of Three?

_February - Tuesday_

_“So, when are you going to go out with the boys?”_

She tossed her luggage up onto the foot of the bed, “The flight was fine, thanks…and the conference starts tomorrow.”

_“Exactly. So are you meeting up tonight?”_

“Yeah, Foggy’s going to come get me in a few hours. Matt’s stuck at school for the time being and is going to meet us at the bar. I have a meeting to go to beforehand.”

_“Ah, yeah. That’s right. Some meeting so that you can weasel your way into getting money for beer.”_

“Books,” she corrected, changing into a pair of tennis shoes. “Anyway, I have to get going; don’t want to be late. I could potentially score a nice chunk of change at this gathering. So…I’mma gonna go and do that.”

_“Yeah, yeah…go do what you do best. Make that money, Mac…you make it rain.”_

“Yeah, something like that. How’s my nugget?”

“ _JJ’s fine. She and Melissa are asleep. You know, I just stand there sometimes and just look at her? I sound like a weirdo_.”

“Nah, you don’t. She’s your baby girl and you’re the best dad in the whole world,” her smile detectable in her voice. “Besides, you have no idea how I’m going to spoil that child rotten when she’s older.”

“ _You are not spoiling my child.”_

She chuckled, “That’s what you think, Dom. Give her a kiss for me, okay? I’ve got to go. I’ll call later.”

 

Foggy was being pulled into the basement of some old, abandoned building by a girl he met a few weeks ago. She was a little on the wild side and Foggy was being a tad on the adventurous side while Matt was busy with his work.  
“This place is great,” Miranda lead them through a series of hallways, dingy stairwells, until a large basement opened up smelling of a locker room. The old, fluorescent lights hummed in the background.

“What exactly are we doing?”

“It’s a cage match, minus the cage. It’s a real adrenaline thing. I love going to fights,” her voice was dripping with excitement.

“Fighting? That’s not really my thing.”

“Come on,” she pulled at his hand. “I promise we can do something you want next date.”

“Oh, so there’s going to be another date,” he grinned. “Well, I can’t say no to a face like that. Where to?”

“Supposedly,” she whispered excitedly as they made their way through the crowd, “there’s a new fighter and they’re a monster. Never been beaten.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Shh!” she shoved him down onto a bench. “The match is about to start! Oh, I really hope she’s as good as they say she is. This is going to be a good fight.”

Her energy was intoxicating if not a little tiring, but he was willing to suffer through a cage fight in order to score a second date.

The announcer stood up on a chair and yelled across the room. “You’re hometown hero: six foot six, two hundred eighty-seven pounds and a mass of pain against the challenger, claiming to never have been beaten: five foot eight, one hundred sixty-two pounds. I’ve got to tell you folks, I’ve watched the challenger’s fight tapes and they’re no slouch.”

Both fighters entered into the ring. Foggy looked on in mild amusement as the big guy took of his hoodie and tossed it into the crowd. The challenger, he observed, was nearly a foot shorter and nowhere near an broad as their opponent. The challenger unzipped their hoodie and slipped it off their shoulders revealing a black sport bra showing off taut shoulder muscles.  
Dark hair was immediately swept up into a quick and messy bun and she began getting to work on wrapping her wrists.

“Isn’t that a little unfair,” Foggy asked, “He’s nearly double her size!”

“That’s why this is going to be so good. Apparently, she’s never been beaten and does some other circuits back where she’s from. Apparently, her circuit heard she was coming out here and set this up as a one-time deal. She stands to make a shit ton of money if she wins.”

Satisfied with the stabilizing wraps on her wrists, the challenger turned around to face her opponent, eyes set and head tilting side to side. Foggy’s jaw dropped and he felt as if he’s just got kicked in the gut. “Oh my God.”  
_Mac…it can’t be. It is. Oh Jesus, she’s going to get herself killed._

“Don’t you want to want to wrap your hands up a little more, or you want some head gear, Princess? I’d hate to mess up your pretty face. And hey, maybe after, you can call me _Daddy._ ” His eyes lingered a little too long on her chest before lazily trailing down the rest of her frame. He wore an air of smugness when they approached each other.

Jen tapped her knuckles against his and backed up in the ring. People were already screaming and cheering at the sound of the bell. Instantly Jen launched herself up in the air putting her full momentum behind a right hook, landing her punch with precision into her opponent’s jaw. He stumbled backward, stunned at the force behind her hit. Jen landed nimbly on her feet and picked her left leg up, shooting it right into his sternum, rocketing him backwards into a wall. She heard his head thump loudly against the wall before his limp torso crumpled in a heap.

The crowd went silent. She wiped her wrist against her forehead, and spit onto the floor. “Sorry, _Daddy_ ,” she sneered. “Had I hit you a little harder the first time, it’d have been a one-hit-wonder.”  
Her arm outstretched to the announcer and he handed her an envelope containing her winnings. “And you lot,” she glared out into the audience, “Were you entertained? Because I’m doing this to survive. What the fuck is wrong with the rest of you that you get off on this shit?”

As Jen scanned the crowd, hey eyes suddenly locked with a full-faced, blond, blue-eyed man that looked horrified. _God damn it, Foggy. What the fuck are you doing here?_

 

“ARE YOU NUTS?” Foggy shouted in the street. Miranda leaned up against the alley wall in awe that her date knew the challenger. “You could have been killed!”

“Are we really going to have this lecture right now? You don’t know why I’m doing what I’m doing and I really, _really_ don’t want to get into this now.”

Miranda extended her arm out, “Hi, I’m Miranda…big fan.”

Jen peered over for a minute, nodded in confusion and turned back to Foggy. “Seriously?”

“It’s a date, Mac. People go on those. I just didn’t think I’d run into a really good friend prepared to beat the living daylights out of someone twice their size! Jesus!” he paced back and forth. “Does he know?”

“No.”

“Which one?”

“Neither.”

“You know what,” Miranda stood upright and scoffed, “I can see that there’s something here between the two of you and I don’t even matter.”

“It’s not like that,” Foggy offered in consolation, his eyes immediately focusing on his date. “She’s a friend that Matt and I met last year…and she’s in town for a conference.”

“A _conference_ …” he delivery flat.

“Yeah, hi…Jen MacDougall; in town for a conference,” she sighed, walking in small figure-eights, her hands atop her head. “Sorry, wasn’t expecting to see him there, kind of threw me.”

“Yeah, well, you know what, you two have fun and Foggy, don’t call me,” Miranda stomped off.

“Ugh,” Foggy let out a prolonged groan. “See…I…every time. I swear to God, every time Matt meets a pretty woman, I suffer. When is it going to end?”

“Excuse me,” she sniped, “I’m sorry that you just had that tramp scamper off because she wasn’t willing to hear you out while you’re being honest. But if that’s the case, then good riddance, Fog! You deserve someone who legitimately gives a damn about you, not about pushing their agenda on you because they view you as their _project_.”

“That’s it,” he angrily fished his phone from his pocket. “I’m calling Matt. Maybe he can talk some sense into you.” He pressed the mobile to his ear and waited for the click, keeping a warry eye on Jen as he walked back and forth.

_“Foggy! I’m on my way to the bar, I’ll be there in ten minutes. You guys there yet?”_

“Oh, no. You’ll never guess where I am.”

“ _Well…you’re outside somewhere, so that’s a plus…are you close?”_

“Ish,” he replied. Jen slumped her shoulders forward, defeated, and was mentally preparing for a number of scenarios that all involved lectures from one or both of her New York boys. “I found Mac. At that thing that Miranda took me to tonight. Fighting.”

_“Are you serious? Get her ass to the bar. Now. I’ll get there as quick as I can.”_

Foggy hung up, pocketed his phone, and ushered her forward. “You know he’s pissed.”

“Of course he is,” she replied, zipping her hoodie to her chin and pulling the hood over her head. “He and Dom have been calling each other and talking about me. I’m sure Dom passed along some vital information about my vice that I’d prefer he not.”

“Let’s go, Ali. You’re going to do the majority of the talking.”

 

Murdock and Nelson sat on one side of the booth while Jen sat quietly on the other. Foggy was tapping his fingers idly on the table while his best friend waited patiently for her to speak. Jen drank deeply from her scotch and tentatively set the glass back down on the table.

“Let me see your hand,” Matt extended his hand to her, his voice calming. “I’ve heard you shake it out three times since you sat down. My dad was a boxer; I can at least tell you if something’s not where it’s supposed to be.”

Cautiously, she placed her hand in his outstretched palm, his thumbs getting to work kneading and prodding at the joints, muscles, and ligaments of her hand. The swollen tissue radiated heat at a higher temperature than the rest of her skin, but after a few moments of prodding he shook his head and pressed his lips into a firm line.  
“I don’t think anything’s broken; you’re lucky.”

“Yeah, a lucky idiot,” Foggy chimed in, shaking his head. “Do you have anything to say for yourself? Does it mean anything that the people closest to you all know that you shouldn’t be fighting and that you’re doing it anyway? Dom is going to be _furious_ when he finds out.”  
“Mac, I watched you spartan kick a dude twice your size in the chest and knock him out in two hits! Oh yeah,” he chuffed to his best friend, “It was impressive, but that’s beside the point.”

She sighed and retracted her hand quickly from Matt’s grasp. “Fog,” Matt warned. “Let her talk, okay?”  
“Mac, Dom said you were doing great and that you weren’t fighting anymore. What caused the lapse?”

She took another long draw from her scotch and waved the bartender for another. “Mr. Bonner.”

“She looks really sad,” Foggy whispered into Matt’s ear. “Like, dog got run over, sad.”

“I know, I can hear it in her voice,” Matt replied. “Mac, it’s okay. You’re safe. Just tell us why, please?”

The bartender replaced her glass with a fresh drink and she tapped her fingertips nervously on the sides. “Dom’s dad…he’s kind of like the dad I always wanted, you know? He’s a good person and does his best by his son and – and took me in when my family essentially disowned me. So – so around Christmas, he asked me to come and help him with some paperwork. He owns and runs his own garage, you see.”  
She sipped from the glass, the liquid fire comforting the hollow feeling in her gut. “When I was going over his books, there were discrepancies and he had no idea. One of his employees had been siphoning off money for years, leaving him with practically nothing.” She sniffed loudly and brought her sleeve to her eye.  
“Dom has no idea how bad it really is because his dad’s embarrassed that he didn’t catch it sooner, but Mr. Bonner’s doing what he can…and – and I knew there was a way I could make that deficit up quick enough to get him back in the green. And then with the baby and everything else…I just…I couldn’t let them have nothing!”

Matt could hear the strain in her voice and the steady, rhythmic beat of her heart echoing loudly in his ears. Foggy sat quietly beside him, nodding as information was presented to him, his demeanor softening to the ordeal.

“I knew,” she cleared her throat. “I knew that, if I was able to do six fights, I’d – I’d have enough to clear the money lost, get back pay, and provide Mr. Bonner with some of his retirement back. So…that’s what I did. Tonight was fight number six. I’ve not lost and I only ever got hit once…” she assured quickly. “But I promised Dom that I wouldn’t get into fights willingly, but I couldn’t think of any other way to help.”

Foggy’s conscience started to nag at him. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

“You’re kidding, right?” she laughed. “You guys are as broke, if not more so, than I am! What could you have done?”

Matt leaned forward, “We could have helped you to find another avenue that wouldn’t have resulted in this.”

“Well, it’s done,” she affirmed. “The cash goes back with me at the end of the week and into the bank. Mr. Bonner already fired the guy that was stealing money and is pressing charges against him. Dom thinks it was over a couple thousand and that his dad’s doing this out of principle.”

“How much,” Matt inquired gently.

“Three hundred and seventy-five thousand.”

“What?” Foggy choked on his tequila. “You made three hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars in six fights?”

“No,” she whispered. “I made seven hundred thousand in six fights.”

“Jesus Christ,” Foggy gasped. “That’s insane.”

“Well, it’s all going to Mr. Bonner...which means a chunk is going to baby JJ in a trust fund or something. So…yeah.”

Matt sighed and shook his head, “Mac…you know why you can’t do this anymore.”

“Yeah, thanks, _dad_ ,” she scoffed, her guilt and disappointment ebbing into her voice. “I know. I like it too much.”

“Well, we’re both disappointed in you,” Foggy added, elbowing Matt in the side. “And you should never do it again…but _seven hundred thousand dollars!?_ ”

 

Foggy had left to go and try to repair things with Miranda, leaving Matt and Jen to talk. He had a suspicion that Matt had been holding back the talk he wanted to give her for the sake of embarrassment, he didn’t want to be around for that. It was bad enough when Matt was in a mood, but he wanted no part of watching the blowback of it off of Jen.

“You ever going to tell me what you look like?” he asked plainly in an effort to change the subject.

She shrugged and leaned into the corner of the booth. “Does it matter? Wouldn’t it potentially shatter the idea of me that you have in your head?”

“It might, but I highly doubt that,” he offered a warm smile. “Look, Mac, I know you’re angry and – and you feel lost sometimes but you can’t let that feeling be the only thing inside of you.”

“Did you read that in a fortune cookie,” she clucked, lazily raising her glass to her lips. “Or was that a special edition from Catholic Confessionals ‘R’Us?”

“Ouch. Now that’s the charm that I’m used to,” he tipped his glass in her direction.

She bit her bottom lip, eyes focusing on his facial features. “How mad are you?”

He popped a skeptical brow up for a moment and shrugged, his lip upturned. “Not as mad as you think. Disappointed, maybe. But I’m relieved that you’re not hurt more than anything.”

“Hmm,” she placed her empty glass on the table. “I guess that’s a good thing.” Her gaze drifted across his features and she took more stock in the way he looked, doing what she could to commit him to memory. His dark red hair was messy, but in a fashion that one could have argued he’d spent a decent amount of time doing on purpose. The beginnings of stubble cast a shadow on the lower half of his face and his glasses hid his eyes from her view. The pulse point throbbed gently at his throat as he spoke to her and his sweater looked incredibly soft, sitting neatly on his frame.

“What?”

“Just looking at you,” she offered. “You’re growing up there, Murdock.”

“I hear that happens as years pass in chronological order. It’s called the progression of time,” he chuckled.

She nodded, lightly thumping her head on the wall for him to hear. “So I’ve heard. I’m pretty sure that they taught that to me at my Ohio school. It ain’t just you city boys having an education, you know.”

Murdock smiled and turned his head to listen to the room. “Hey, I’ve got an idea, if you’re willing to abandon our post at the bar…if you’re feeling adventurous.”

“Sure, why the hell not? It’s not like my night could make me feel shittier, “ she goaded with a little venom in her tone.

“Well, with that attitude, you aren’t going to have any fun at all. Come on; I think it’s something that you’ll like.”

He slid on his coat and stood, waiting for her. She paid up the tab and walked in front of him out the door. “So…do you want me to guide you or no? If I’m going to, you’re going to need to give me the quick version of how to do so; my blind classmate was in elementary school and she moved away in middle school.”

“I need to take your arm, you should walk a little ahead of me and ideally, you keep me from running into things. But I will let you know, it’s a little more difficult than you think and if I run into things, I won’t take it personally.”

“Oh good, so no pressure,” her tone light. “And you expect me to do this after all that we were drinking?”

“Ye of little faith, I think you’ll do fine,” he hooked his hand onto her arm and the pair walked toward his destination.  
“I propose a game while we’re walking.”

“You want me to play a game while I’m focusing on not leading you into a sewage drain? You’re brave, Murdock.”

“Twenty questions. If I catch you lying, we get to do what I want when we get to our destination. If you catch me, we get to do what you want to do when we get there,” he offered a shadow of a smile on his face.

“What makes you think that the prize is worth it for me?”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure it is and if I’m wrong, I buy drinks for the rest of the week.”

“Deal.”

“Alright, round one,” he drew his head back in thought as she lead them down the sidewalk. “What does it feel like when you’re fighting _slash_ what is the allure?”

“Uh…diving right in are we? Uh…well…it’s – it’s like everything comes into focus,” she began, heaving a weighty sigh. “And when everything aligns my body feels like…the circuit’s complete and the current’s able to free flow…and it pulls at me all the time. Even when we had our fight club in high school…it just…felt like it made sense.”  
“How’d you bruise up your hands?”

_Truth_. “You saw those did you? I’ve been practicing on a bag at a gym…didn’t wear gloves or tape up my hands; kind of careless.” She smiled at his candor, continuing their journey after Matt directed her to take a right at the intersection ahead.  
“Round two: why are you so afraid of telling Dom about the fighting even though it’s for his dad and JJ?”

“He’s always been supportive of me in everything that I do. He reminds me that I’m smarter than him all the time, and, he has always wanted me to do better at whatever I set my mind to. He’ll be crushed because I promised that I would try and do better, not that I’d quit fighting completely…and after the fight we had in November…I’m afraid he’d walk away to save himself and his family.”  
“Why do you keep asking me what I look like? You could always ask Foggy.”

He noted that her heart continued to beat steadily and continued, “I think that you don’t like what you see because it reminds you of something that you’d rather not remember. So anytime someone asks about you, you always deflect and tell them about yourself rather than giving the information they’ve asked for as some sort of bizarre compensation.” Her heart rate didn’t change. _Truth again._  
“What’s your favorite song?”

They walked for nearly half an hour until they stopped outside of an older building. Matt pushed their way inside and paid the janitor with a small roll of cash before ushering her to a door with a _Fogwell’s Gym_ sign on the window.

Matt walked to a locker and withdrew some gear and set it on the bench while Jen looked around at the space they were in, her eyes resting on an old poster, yellowed with time, announcing the matchup of Battlin’ Jack Murdock and Crusher Creel.

“Your dad? This was his gym?”

“Yeah,” Matt shrugged off his coat, peeled off his sweater, and changed into a t-shirt. “He, uh, he was killed after that fight. He was supposed to lose in the fifth…but he ended up knocking out Creel and…” he cleared his throat, “…and they got to him. It’s how I was orphaned. I hadn’t been blind for very long when he was killed...”

“I – I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, eyes bouncing between him and the poster.

“What happened that made you build up so much rage…that Dom has basically been the caretaker of it?” Matt opened his palm and motioned with his head to it, his hair tussling before his eyes.

She placed her hand into his palm and watched, mesmerized, as he began to expertly wrap her hands while she talked. “I told you I had daddy issues and I wasn’t lying, but I was trying to be kind; spare you from the details. In an effort to have transparency,” she paused a beat, her free hand wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye, “He…my father…” she cleared her throat noisily.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he whispered, her heartrate beginning to skyrocket. “I can tell it hurts.”

“No…no…you haven’t lied to me yet…so…he, uh…came into my room…at night…did things that should have landed him in prison and me in a psych ward. Sexual abuse is one hell of a buzz kill,” she choked. “I pulled a knife on him when I was in sixth grade; I’d…finally…had enough. Told him I’d kill him if he touched me again.”

Matt’s thoughts were clearly visible in his facial expressions. Angst, dread; empathy…they all flashed across his features in waves. “I…Mac…I’m…”

“I know,” she nodded as he began wrapping her other hand. “I understand what you’re tying to say, so thank you.”

The pair grew quiet as he finished his task. He stood and walked over to a gym bag, standing beside it expectantly. “Well, come on. A deal’s a deal,” he offered with a gesture to the bag.

“What’s this?” she queried, a skeptical brow lifted in surprise. “I thought you didn’t want me fighting?”

“I don’t,” his head bobbed to the side before he moved to stand behind the bag. “But I also don’t want you to self-destruct, either. The bag might be your best bet. And, as the son of a boxer…I know how to brace a bag pretty well.”

“What if I accidentally knock you off your feet?” Jen asked quickly, the timbre of her voice changing when she walked towards him. “Matt, I can’t!”

“Yes…you can. I know you can. I’ll be fine. Remember? Son of a boxer. Come on. Let me see what you got.”

“You can’t _see_ anything!” she argued. “I’m not going to be the reason Foggy has to try to beat the living daylights out of me, because you and I both know that I won’t let that happen. And then I have to worry about patching up his ego, your ego…it’s just bad news all around. _And then_ I’d have to tell Dom…”

“Mac, look at me,” he waited for her to do so and sensed she was paying attention. “I. Will. Be. Fine. Hit the damn bag, Mac, or was I wrong and just wasted a ton of tape on you?”

 

After an hour and a half, Jen was panting heavily with an exhausted smile on her face. Matt wiped his face with a towel and threw one in her direction. “Dom was right,” he announced in admiration. “You know how to throw a punch. He wasn’t joking about some of the power behind those.”

“You know,” she buried her face in the towel. “If you want me to stop fighting, praising me isn’t really a good move.” She wiped her neck and patted her chest dry before tearing at her tape. “So what, you’re saying that I take up fighting a bag to keep everything at bay?”

“It’s something. I don’t think bottling it up is healthy, but you fighting isn’t going to be good for you either. Something I kind of understand, you know. Now, if you’ll humor me, come here please.” She sauntered over, rolling her neck out and stood beside him. Gingerly, Matt placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her in the direction of the mirror. “Now…will you tell me what you see? What do you look like?”

She peered in the mirror, confused. “I see a piece of shit.”

“Now that’s a lie,” he retorted. “And you know it. Frankly, I’m a little insulted that you’d start lying to me now after I stood there for over an hour balancing that bag. Try again.” She sighed, closed her eyes, and muttered about how imbecilic she felt this was under her breath. “You lied, so that means we get to do what I want. You agreed.”

Annoyed with herself, she opened her eyes and stared into the mirror. It had been the first time in she didn’t know how long where she took a moment to actually look at herself. Sure, she’d look in the mirror to put on makeup, but she felt that it was so small a scope that she was peeking through a kaleidoscope to see a greater picture. But now, tired as she was…there was something comforting and akin to contentment about looking at herself.  
“Uh…okay, where do you want me to start?”

“Anywhere,” he shrugged. “I’m listening.”

She licked her lips and focused on the task set before her. “Alright…I’m five-eight…lean…but…not because I don’t eat…I just…workout and stuff.”

“Okay,” Matt nodded, backing up slowly to sit on the bench. “Keep going.”

“My hair’s dark, like yours but…brown...and a little wavy in the middle. Yours is red. I can tell when the sun hits it right…I remember from last year…We have a similar skin tone, if you remember how you looked as a kid…”

“I do,” he smiled gently.

“My face is flushed from working over the bag,” she added in a huff. “Splotchy in my cheeks and throat…huh…” she grinned, a critical eye moving across her body.

“I have a dimple in my left cheek when I smile…my eyes are kind of hazel…but there’s other colors in there…let me show you…” she sat beside him and took his hand, forcing it palm up. She drew an encompassing circle and pointed to below his fingers. “This is the top, for reference, okay?”

“Okay. Got it.” His eyes didn’t quite focus on her, but he knew that she was aware of his attentiveness. Her skin smelled like sweat, adrenaline, and scotch to him and it was making his head hazy. There had been a few times where he was swimming in her outside of his head that had nearly cost him his balance and dignity when holding the bag.

“There’s hazel in the background,” she painted invisibly on his hand, “but then there’s streaks of a darker brown here and here. And there’s almost like a gray,” her finger swirled in his palm, “that kind of blends in…and…I didn’t realize…but there are flecks of green and blue…they’re small…but the light catches it and…it’s kind of pretty…and intense…”

He slowly clasped his fingers around hers, another soft smile on his face, “There you are. I can see you better now.”

“How do I look?”

Murdock blew air through his nose quickly in a huff and blinked slowly. “Stronger and more than I thought.”

“More?”

“Just more.”

“Hmm,” her voice was low in her throat. “My turn.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal.”

“I know, I was hoping you’d let me anyway.” She slowly lifted her fingers to the frames of his glasses and delicately pulled them away from his face, placing them in his palm. Her eyes slowly scanned every inch of his face, taking their time to memorize the color of his eyes and how they molded his face without his glasses. Jen placed her palm against his cheek and brushed her thumb across his cheekbone. “Hmm.”

“Hmm? That’s not a good sign. Don’t tell me…I’m really not as handsome as Foggy lets me to believe.”

“No…that’s – that’s not it. Your eyes…”

“My eyes? What is it? Do I have something on my face?”

She smiled with a shake of her head. “No…they’re beautiful…they’re warm and kind.”  
“There you are, Matthew; I think I found you underneath all those jokes and smirks. I see you. And you’re more, too.”

The side of his mouth quirked up for a moment, “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I don’t feel like I’ve been scrutinized this closely before.”

Jen leaned her head to the side and frowned. “Matthew Murdock, did you just lie to me?”

“Not exactly, I should amend that a girlfriend I had a while ago did…but…”

“You still fibbed,” she jabbed, handing him his sweater.

“Unintentionally,” he changed quickly as she put on her hoodie. “Slip of the tongue.”

“Still, a deal’s a deal,” Jen quipped, a light tone in her voice, her eyes sneaking a peek at him changing. “Now we get to go do what I want to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“We get to go talk. Come on. I know a place we can go.”

 

“Okay, I feel like my school’s making me slum it in my dorm while you get an entire suite to yourself when you come to a conference,” Murdock quipped while Jen showed him around her rather spacious digs. On the way over, Jen had explained that she was given a rather nice corner suite that had a decent sized kitchenette and that she didn’t have to share her room with anyone.

“To be fair…bathroom door,” she interjected as they mapped the room together, “I’m pretty sure after I ran my mouth in November, the university is afraid I’ll sue…and why they’re pushing to let me graduate a year early.”

“Really?” his brows shot up. “Do you think you could do it?”

“Technically, I could at the end of this semester…I have the packet to sign sitting on my desk back at my apartment; I’m debating. I mean, I have a full ride…but I could go straight into grad school early. It’ll look good. Kitchen table.”

“Color me impressed. You’re smart, too? Wow. Aren’t you just a triple threat?”

“Couch…You knew I was smart, dipshit. I thought, for a while, that’s the only reason you were talking to me at the beginning…kind of like, pocketing a smart person in the bank for later…side table and lamp…”

He stopped and pulled at her, “I talk to you because of who you are, not what you are. If anyone ever makes you feel any different, shame on them. I mean it.”

“Aww, Matt. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” she teased an elbow into his side. “I think – I think we should hug.”

“I regret everything nice I’ve ever said to you,” he threw his head back in exasperation.

“You’re lying again. Come on, the couch is over here; have a seat.” She led him to the sitting area and moved across the room to her kitchenette. “Do you want something to drink? I’ve got beer and liquor, water…whatever?”

“Beer sounds good.” He could see her puttering around the room, her heart calm and sure as she worked. He could smell the airport on her still and something warm from the soap she used. It was subtle at the moment, but, it mixed pleasantly now with the glass of rum she’d poured for herself. “You had mentioned that your classmates were a bit jaded that you got to go again.”

“Yeah…they can complain all they want. Here,” she took his hand and placed the beer in it before sitting on the opposite end of the couch. “If they don’t want me to go, then they can quit receiving the tutoring I give them.” She sipped from her glass, tucking her legs neatly under herself, resting it on her knee.  
She propped her head up with her free hand, relaxed and pleasantly tired. “How’s school for you? We don’t talk about it much.”

“You know how it is: busy…trying to get as much done as possible so that I can keep trucking through to law school. I feel like we’re similar in that regard.”  
“I want to get into law and help people; good people that need it.”

“Admirable.”

“What made you get into business? You know that my dad was the reason I did what I did…so what spurred you?”

“It made sense in a way…it was a disappointment to my mom and I was good at using my words…not necessarily in the best of ways,” she rubbed her face roughly. “Almost like coercing people to do what I want, like a good boss is able to do…urging employees forward…I don’t know…”

“So…spite?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“You don’t seem overly spiteful,” he offered.

“I can be…more stubborn than anything else…but…Dom tries his best to keep me grounded as much as possible. I think that’s why I don’t want to disappoint him…you know?” She shifted on the couch. “He’s spent so much time and energy on me that…I can’t just throw that away…and I don’t really know why he hasn’t dropped me.”

Matt leaned back comfortably and ran a hand through his hair. “He cares about you and probably sees the same things that I do.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“You’re incredibly smart, your heart is kind and strong, you are incredibly loyal to your friends; you’re beautiful inside and out…you are worth our time; a–and how you don’t see that kind of blows my mind.”

“How do you know?” he bobbed his head in question. “How can you be so sure about what’s on the inside?”

“I guess it’s something in your voice. But…I know you’re a good person and I hope that means something.”

She finished her drink and stood up, nabbing his empty glass from the table and taking it to the kitchen. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it,” she replied. “But, I guess one could argue that it’s part of the human condition.”

Matt crossed the room to where she was leaning on the counter with her hip. “You, Jennifer MacDougall, are a good person. I wouldn’t be hanging out with you if I didn’t think so. This self-loathing that you have…it’s – it’s got to stop. You’re not going to be able to move on until you accept that you are worth it.”

“And what if I’m not? What if – if everything that’s happened…it was a sign that I’m not worth whatever it is?”

He scoffed, spun in a small circle, and put his hands on his waist. “You honestly believe it! You honestly think that your life’s not worth anything…it’s not that you enjoy fighting…it’s not that you are afraid…you think that you’re worth nothing.”

“Maybe…I guess…”

“Do you hear how crazy that sounds?” he crossed his arms across his chest, his lips in a thin frown. “You are not at fault for what happened to you. You did nothing wrong. What you are responsible for is how you deal with it and move on. I mean, Jesus, Jen…I’ve known you for a year and – and I know that you’ve evolved a lot since this time last year. How can you not see that? And – and JJ is going to need her godmother to stay around for as long as possible!” She looked up and felt a grin on her face. “What…what…are – are you smiling?”

“You think I’m pretty.”

Matt threw his head back again, his tongue poking into the side of his cheek. “Walked right into that. Again. You know, I’ve decided it’s probably in my best interest to break off this friendship now. Quit while I’m ahead and can climb out of any potential holes I’ve dug. Is this what you meant? By being good with words?”

“Yeah, a little bit,” her grin broadened. “I’m  just going to let you know that I’m smiling like the fucking Cheshire Cat. I didn’t know you thought I was pretty. And you said such nice things…and that pep talk was spectacular.”

“Agony. Again…you’re putting me in agony. You talked about having to help my ego, but man…the one-two punch.”

He swayed lightly on his feet, urging Jen to grab him by his elbow. “And that, Mr. Murdock, is enough for the night. You can barely stay on your feet. Come on…you can stay here tonight or I can call you a cab, your choice…I’m not letting you walk home.”

“I think,” he gestured behind him, “I’ll go. You’ve got a conference in the morning.” He stumbled and reached out for Jen. “On second thought,” he chuckled, “maybe I’ll take you up on that offer. The couch…sounds good.”

“Alright then, here we go.” She was gentle and kind in her movements, nabbing the throw from the other end of the couch and draping it across his body as he flopped onto the couch.

“I think I’m drunk,” he chortled with a smile. She stood beside him for a minute, crossed her arms and quirked a brow. “Probably.”

“I think you’re lying,” she replied with a smile, taking his glasses and setting them on the side table. “And you want to make sure that I’m okay; but we can agree to disagree. Hey, your glasses are right here.”

Murdock chuckled low in his chest and tucked the chenille blanket under his chin. “You can prove nothing.”

“Touché. But there’s something there when you try to lie and I can hear it. You’re digging yourself another hole there, Murdock.”

“That’s alright. I think eventually I’ll be able to dig my way out of this one. Drunk or not, I just want to make sure that you know you’re safe…or something.”

“Yes, well, that doesn’t really have the same gravitas,” she motioned with a Shakespearean wave of her hand, “when you are bundled up on my couch under a soft, fluffy, green blanket.”

He shrugged, “Seems to be working just fine. I could be drunk. I might not be. You’ll never know.”

She sat down on the floor in front of him, her back resting against the arm of the couch. “It’s alright, Murdock. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere and I’ll make sure you get home safe in the morning. Get some sleep, princess.”

 

Sometime in the middle of the night, Matt guessed it was around three in the morning, he felt her stirring beside him. She’d broken out into a sweat and clawed into the carpet, the energy radiating off of her was unsettling.  
_She’s having a nightmare. She’s talked about them and knowing what I know now, it’s not surprising…and I was the ass that coerced her into talking about it tonight. Way to go, Murdock. You don’t have a lot of friends and you went ahead and probably pushed a little too far. She’s probably going to be pissed at you in the morning._  
A chill ran through her body and she flinched. _Alright, that’s enough of that._

“Jen…Jen…hey, it’s okay. Wake up, you’re alright,” he whispered in her ear. Matt slipped down on the floor and sat beside her, prodding her back to lucidity. “You’re safe. Remember? Wake up. There you go…you’re getting there… Hey, you’re okay,” his voice soft and reassuring. “You’re safe, remember? I’m here. I got you.”

Jen’s eyes bobbed around manically trying to make sense of where she was in the dim light. Her chest heaved, a shiver racked her body. “I’m – I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay. You had a nightmare. Here,” he draped the blanket around her shoulders. Her energy changed and now, rather than feeling like needles it was softer like warm honey. “You should get to bed; you’ve probably got a few hours before you have to get up.” She shook her head, her tresses bouncing lightly off the side of his face and shoulder. _Vanilla in her conditioner and spices in the soap. She likes those things._ “Okay, then we can stay here…but I’m going to vote for the couch. There’s no way you won’t be stiff later. Come on.”

She vaguely had some idea of Matt urging her up onto the couch, the weight of sleep still pulling at her body. She mumbled something and sat next to him, wavering as she was being pulled back toward the oblivion of sleep. Jen could recall a warm, baritone voice talking softly to her, encouraging her to fall back asleep.  
“It’s okay, Jen. I’ve got you.”


	5. Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a snow day here because we got over a foot of snow. And I got through proofing most of it yesterday...so...early present!

_Wednesday_

She woke before her alarm went off, gray light filtering in through the curtains. Matt was snoring softly beside her, his arm draped across her shoulders. She’d drooled on his sweater in her sleep and lamented having to tell him that. Jen had nestled herself into his shoulder and had curled up against his side under the blanket.  
_Maybe he’ll be able to tell. It’s wet, genius. Now that’s embarrassing. Wait…how did I end up on the couch? I should wake him up, just in case he doesn’t remember where he is. That would have to be terrifying._  
Some part of her wished she could just fall back asleep and call it a day: it had been the most sleep she’d had in a while and she felt rested if not a little stiff.

“You’re up early,” a voice rough from sleep interrupted her from her thoughts.

“Sorry, I need to get up.”

His hand rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, it’s okay. What time is it?”

“Six, I think. I was going to wake you up so that you didn’t feel lost. I remember you saying that it was something that terrified you,” she yawned. Her body lurched upward and away from the source of comfort to her left. Her hands uncovered her body from the blanket and tucked it into his side. “I promise I’ll call you a cab once I get ready. I don’t want you to think I’ve forgotten about you; but I smell like a gym bag…and probably look like one, too.”

“Are you asking me to…wait…did – did you drool on me?” he pulled at his sweater.

“Yeah…uh…sorry?”

He shrugged and settled back into his original spot, “I’ll live. It’s not the worst thing.”

“In a way, it’s your fault.”

“ ‘y ‘ault?” he yawned, words muddled. Jen stood up and moseyed into the bedroom, pulling her outfit for the day out of the closet and turning on the water for a shower. “ ‘ow ‘sit ‘y ault?”

“I haven’t slept like that in ages. You should have left me on the floor. Your fault.”

“Oh, okay. Sure, you go with that.”

She hollered from the bathroom, “There’s breakfast in the fridge if you’re hungry. Help yourself. I have the coffee pot brewing, too.”

“Hmm,” he hummed. “I might have to take you up on that offer.”

 _“Foggy. Foggy. Foggy. Foggy,”_ his phone rang loudly in his pocket. He fished for it awkwardly and pressed it to his ear.

“ _Matt, where the hell are you? You didn’t come home last night. Are you okay?_ ”

He sighed loudly, “Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to worry you. I’m fine. I’ll see you at class later. Promise.”

“ _Where are you?”_

“With Mac. We drank too much and she didn’t want me walking home on my own, bleeding heart.”

“I heard that,” she shouted from the bathroom, the water shut off.

_“Oh my God! Murdock, you dog!”_

“It’s not like that, Foggy. I slept on the couch.”

 _“I knew it!”_ he shouted into the phone. _“You totally have a thing for her.”_

“Bye, Fog. I’ll see you at ten.”

Jen emerged a few moments later and dressed, shoes in hand. She opened up the fridge and dug out a pair of oranges, walking over to hand hone to him. “Here, breakfast. Can’t say it’ll go with the coffee, but it’ll help with whatever alcohol’s still in your system. Or at least that’s what I tell myself,” she placed it in his hand. “They make me feel better. It’s a happy fruit.”

“A _happy_ fruit? That’s it. No more bag time for you. You’ve changed. What happened to the sourpuss I made friends with last year? I seem to have misplaced her.”

“Uh, well, she’s still here, happy to put you in your place and make some mischief for your life with a phone call to your best friend. You know, just for funsies.”

Taken aback, he sat stunned in a humored stupor. “You wouldn’t!”

“I can imagine it now,” she started peeling her orange. “ _‘Oh, Foggy, you were right. He’s such a charmer and a ladies man. Oh my gosh, guess where he took me out to dinner first’_!” She smirked and traded oranges with him, peeling the other. “I can be devious if I feel like it, good person or not.”

“Point taken.” He inhaled deeply. She smelled clean: of spices, laundry soap, and vanilla. “Your soap…it suits you. What is it?”

“ _Rainbath_ or something. It’s Neutrogena and doesn’t make my skin break out. Is it too strong? I can use something else since we’re hanging out. I didn’t even think about it, I’m sorry,” she back pedaled.

“No, it’s fine. It’s in the air since you showered. It’s not bad. Kind of mixes with the orange, in a weird way. I dunno,” he shrugged. He placed a piece of the orange in his mouth and let the bright, citrus flavor help wake him up. “What’s the outfit of choice today?”

Jen peered down having forgotten for a moment that despite is keenness, Matt was still blind. “It’s a dress. Fitted in the shoulders and it’s got a pencil skirt…thing. Sleeves stop above the elbow and the hem hits just above my knee. It’s the first day of conference, I need to make an impression. A potential employer might be there and, if I’m graduating early it’s kind of important.”

“What color is it?”

“Navy, she replied quickly, “with some dark red cording at the waist.”

“And the shoes?”

“Red, too.”

“You’ll knock ‘em dead, Jen. And if they don’t see you, screw ‘em.”

She stood, slipped her shoes on and handed him his glasses. “Come on, Murdock. I remember promising to get you back to your dorm at a fairly respectable hour. Like you said, I’ve got work to do.”

 

Matt quietly stepped into his dorm room, Foggy having gone to either shower or get breakfast. Despite having slept on a couch that was less than comfortable, he felt energized for the day. Jen had a way of making him feel at ease when they talked and having her at a closer proximity made that feeling stronger. Elektra made him feel alive, like his entire body had a million volts of electricity surging through him. Jen was different. It was the opposite: there was an unintelligible peace that settled onto his bones, a feeling like anything could be possible.  
He rolled onto his bed and covered his face with his pillow, groaning loudly into it when Foggy walked in holding a bag of bagels.

“Morning to you, too, Murdock,” he jabbed. “So, how’s Mac?”

“Fine,” his voice muffled from under the pillow. “We got drunk. I slept on the couch. She got up and went to her conference.”

“Uh-huh.”

Matt chucked his pillow at his roommate and covered his face in the crook of his elbow. “I swear.”

“Are…Murdock, are you smiling?”

“No. I hate you. The both of you.”

Foggy threw the pillow back, setting the bagels on the dresser. “You say that, but deep down inside, I’m _pretty sure_ that you don’t. It’s this warm, fuzzy feeling I keep having. Or it’s heartburn.”

“Foggy, I’m serious,” he chuckled. _“Nothing happened._ ”

 

“So who was the guy in the lobby this morning?” Josh asked. Josh was the faux-know-it-all of the group that got to go from college. He was in the class ahead of Jen and wasn’t a fan of the fact that they both might be graduating in May together. She’d been outshining him from the start and he was over it. “Had to have a little action while you’re away?”

Jen made a mental note that she didn’t have a single Josh in her life that wasn’t a prick. “I’m going to ignore that comment,” she waved with her hand as she signed the forms at registration, “because it’s not really any of your damn business.”

Josh nodded and whispered into Jenna’s ear, “She thinks she’s so much better than the rest of us, but really, she’s just another slut sleeping her way to the top.”

Jen’s spine stiffened and she gradually turned on her heel. “That comment, I won’t ignore. Josh, I don’t think you realize what an utter jackass you are, but I’m here to help you. Allow me to make something perfectly clear: I don’t care what you think. You know nothing about me. You know nothing about what I’ve been through. I would also take great care in the libelous charges you throw around.”  
“That _guy_ that you saw this morning is my lawyer. I would advise you to watch your mouth, Mr. Michalka.”

Rachel walked over and fist-bumped Jen before the pair of them walked away, heads high. “Good for you.”

“Thanks,” Jen smirked. “He’s not a lawyer yet, but still.”

“Josh does _not_ need to know that. Which session were you going to first?”

“Which ever one was this way. Coming?”

“Yeah, I think I will.”

 

“Miss MacDougall?”

“Mr. Duquense, hello. It’s a pleasure to see you here at conference. How have you been?” Jen shook the entrepreneur’s hand.

Duquesne was an older gentleman, somewhere in his sixties that had a fascination for charcoal suits and brown shoes. He wore a few rings on his fingers, one of which presumably was a wedding ring. His hair was streaked in salt and pepper, combed over neatly, the fringe sitting at his brow.  
“Fine, fine,” he replied congenially. “And you? Your university tells me that you could graduate as early as this semester? Is that true?”

“Yes, sir,” her voice firm. “I haven’t decided if I want to pursue that avenue just yet. I feel that I haven’t reached my educational potential yet.”

“Have you thought about graduate school, should you plan to continue?” his blue eyes looked like sea glass in the sun.

Jen nodded and clasped her hands in front of herself, shifting her weight comfortably to her other foot. “University of Chicago.”

“Setting your sights high as expected, I see. Well…Miss MacDougall, I was hoping to take you out to lunch to discuss a theoretical business venture with you, if…you would be interested.”  
“And,” he added kindly, “I had heard about what happened last year and would like to offer you the ability to take anyone with you should you feel uncomfortable with me alone at lunch. Making you feel cornered and uncomfortable is not my intention.”

“Of course,” she nodded  
_Would Matt be able to go? No, he has class. Duh.  
_“Perhaps my colleague Rachel would be able to come with…if it’s not too much trouble?”

“None at all. Here’s my card,” he withdrew a beautiful linen business card from his breast pocket. “Say, one o’clock at Il Punto Ristorante? It’s not far.”

“That sounds wonderful. One o’clock, sir.”  Duquense walked away with a gentle bow from his waist to continue mingling with the guests in attendance. Jen quickly withdrew her phone from her pocket and scrolled for a particular number. A giddiness welled in her chest, but she knew that she had to remain calm: this could still be part of the interview.  
“Rachel, don’t eat lunch. We have an appointment at one.”

_“Okay… Is it something that I’m going to have to grit my teeth through or did you dazzle someone?”_

“I have a lunch meeting with Mr. Michael Duquesne at Il Punto and I would like to have my advisor with me if you’ll join me?”

 _“OH MY GOD, JEN THAT’S AMAZING!”_ she shouted into the phone. _“YES, GIRL. I AM SO PROUD OF YOU. I mean,”_ she coughed in an effort to regain her composure. “ _Of course, I’ll accompany you. It’d be a privilege._ ”

“Thanks, Rachel. If it goes well, will you help me rub it in Josh’s face?” she bit her bottom lip.

 _“That goes without saying_.”

 

Jen walked into Josie’s Bar, the digs for the evening. Matt could sense something in her demeanor had changed and she was carrying herself taller, more sure of herself. Her heart was beating faster and her body was humming.

“Gentlemen,” she unsheathed herself from her peacoat and draped over her stool. “I have an announcement.”

“That was quick, Mac,” Foggy jabbed. “Wedding bells already?”

“What, no,” she responded flatly. “Honestly, you’re ridiculous. No. Guess. Come on! Guess, guess!”

Matt smiled and shook his head. “I mean if you got a job offer on the first day, Foggy’s definitely going to hug you.”

She nodded with a smile that made creases at her eyes appear. “You know he can’t see that,” Foggy replied.

Jen grabbed Matt’s hand and placed it against her face and nodded again. “Oh my God, really?” Matt jumped up. “You got a job offer?”

“Yep. Salary and everything,” she beamed. She began laughing in giddiness and took both men in her arms into a hug, kissing them both on the cheek. “There’s a couple of contingencies that have to happen first, but I’ve been signed. Is this what it feels like to get drafted into the NHL?”

“Hockey. That explains a lot. That’s why you snubbed my amazing baseball references,” Foggy quipped. “This calls for a celebration! What’ll you have?”

“Scotch for me,” Murdock smiled, sliding back onto his stool. “Rum?”

“Not tequila or vodka,” Jen informed.

Foggy went up to the bar top to place the order. Her heartbeat echoed loudly in his ears and its strong pulse was hypnotic. “Well, big shot, how do you feel?”

“Uh…I dunno, actually. Overwhelmed? Confused? Oh my God, I have to call Dom!”

“Overwhelmed?” Foggy’s voice laden with disbelief. “You? Nah, not you. You could tackle a room of sharks with one hand tied behind your back and come out victorious.” He placed the drinks on the table and the three of them clinked their glasses together.

“So…I mean…wow, what are the contingencies?”

“Well,” she sighed, gathering herself. “I need to graduate this semester, which I can. That’s easy. I’m being asked to go to grad school next year and finish my schooling. Pending that I stay out of trouble and keep pulling the grades I’m pulling, Michael Duquesne has offered me a job with his company. He’s – he’s a guy that owns restaurants.”  
“So, I propose a toast: to being worth it, to being enough, and to friends!”

“Here, here!”  
“Slainte!”  
“Hell yeah!”

“So, how about we keep drinking? Because, I’m pretty sure that Mac is going to have two degrees before we finish up here at Columbia,” Foggy cheered.

“I’m game,” Jen slung back her rum. “Come on, Matt, it’s no fun if it’s just the two of us.”

“Alright, alright.”

 

_“You got offered a job by the dude that you talked to last year? That’s amazing! I’m proud of you, beastie.”_

She sighed into the cold New York air, her breath swirling into a mist and smelling faintly sweet from rum. “Matt gave me a pretty nifty pep talk beforehand; probably the same one you’ve been trying to bludgeon into my head for nearly ten years. So, sorry it took someone else saying it for me to hear it.”

_“Nah, ‘salright. I’m glad you at least heard it. At least pretty boy got through to you.”_

“Pretty boy? I never said a word about what he looks like to you!” she scoffed.

 _“All the same_ ,” Dom sniggered on the other end, _“It’s about what you don’t say. You always told me about what you didn’t like with the other guys you dated and had crushes on. Not a peep about Matthew Murdock_.”

She buzzed her lips in annoyance. “He has a stupid face.”

_“You’re lying. He does not. But, you gotta tell me…bestie to bestie…something important…”_

“Yeah, anything.”

His voice teased her through the phone, _“Is he better looking than me? Now…don’t – don’t answer too quickly. My pride’s at stake.”_

“I’m not going to dignify that with an answer,” she turned, staring at Matt and Foggy through the window.

_“That’s a yes. Oh, hun…you got it bad.”_

“Shut up. I hate you.”

 _“Another lie. But that’s alright. I’ll let that one slide since it’s stinging your pride. Go have fun. Don’t get drunk and do something stupid. And you best believe I’m picking you up from the airport Monday and we’re going out. This is two years in a row you’re missing my birthday. I’m almost ready to take it personally. Melissa insists that we go out…she says I’m staying in the house too much._ ”

“Ouch; love you, too. Talk to you soon. Bye, jerk face.”

Inside, Matt had been eavesdropping on MacDougall’s conversation once her heart began to race.  
S _he thinks you’re good looking. Score one for Murdock._

 

Back at Jen’s hotel, Foggy and Matt sat on the couch while the pair continued drinking into the late evening.

“This place is amazing!” Nelson exclaimed. “Look at this place! It’s gorgeous. Clean lines, nice view. It’s huge!”

“Would if I could, Fog,” Matt jabbed. “I can’t see worth a shit, but I can hear the dollar signs in the room.”

“Exactly. Matt and I are going to have an office one day that’s like this! I’ve decided,” Foggy exclaimed with a flourish of a turn in the middle of the floor. “We’re going to save the world.”

“I bet you could. You two would be unstoppable,” she donned a smiled in agreement. “And hey, if you need someone to help run the books, I’ll see what I can do…you know…pencil you in to my schedule.”

“Oh, we are not worthy!” Matt feigned admiration.

Foggy slumped into a chair facing the pair on the couch. “In other news, are the two of you planning on talking for the rest of the evening…be–because if so, that’s really going to kill this buzz I’ve got going. Love you to death, buddy, but I don’t know if I can take two nights straight of that…even inebriated.”

“It’s alright, Foggy. You want a cab?”

“Nah. I can walk.”

“You’re getting cab,” Jen asserted. “Come on, slugger. I’ll walk you down.”  
“Matt, I’ll be back…I don’t think I’ve moved anything since yesterday, so you shouldn’t trip over anything,” she cautioned toward him. Foggy saluted at Jen, in tow, and followed her downstairs.

“Now, you kids behave yourselves.”

“Sure thing, Dad,” Jen smirked. “We just talk, honest. It’s rather therapeutic. And he’s helping me through whatever’s going on in my head.”

Foggy’s eyes softened. “I know that. I can tell the difference, you know. Just – just know that he cares about you…a lot. And he’d probably give me a lot of shit about it…but…he worries about you…you know…the other three hundred and sixty days that you’re not here…”

“…Foggy…” she interjected when the elevator reached the bottom floor.

“…and his face does this thing when he hears his phone announcing you as the caller…I’m just saying that…whatever it is that you two are doing or have…or whatever,” he gestured wildly with his hands, “I think it’s good…you know…for him, too.”  
“Hey, just in case you two talk all night, there’s a backpack with a change of clothes in there for him. I left it in your room. He’s a little particular about his clothes.”

He exited the elevator and flagged a cab from outside the lobby, disappearing into the night.

 

He had to hand it to Franklin Nelson, even accidentally, he was often the best wingman a guy could ask for; and, even if nothing would happen between him and Jen, he knew that what was said to her had struck a chord since she felt more pensive coming up the elevator. Matt could smell the bag Foggy had left over near the table in an attempt to be helpful.  
The click from her key snapped him out of his head. Her skin smelled of rum and he thought for a moment that he kind of liked it.

“On a scale of one to ten, how likely are you staying here?”

“Depends,” he smirked. “How long do you plan on talking?”

“Me? I already did the majority of my talking at the bar. You’re supposed to tell me about your day, that’s how this works usually,” she stood in front of him.

“Alright. I went to my dorm, napped a couple hours, got up, went to class, had a burger for lunch, went to my afternoon classes, didn’t get any weird phone calls about a really good friend of mine fighting…went to a bar…and now I’m here: sitting in a fancy hotel suite with one of the strongest women that I know, drinking scotch, as she asks me how my day was,” he flashed a know-it-all smirk.

“Wow. That was special.”

“You asked,” he nodded, elbows on his knees, his scotch held between his fingertips and head tilted up at her.

She kicked off her shoes and stashed them under the table out of the way, “Alright then. We’ll talk.” Jen moved into the bedroom and changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top. “Since you are feeling so blatantly chatty.”

“Good. What do you want to talk about?”

“The uncomfortable,” she reappeared, with another throw in hand.

“Seriously? That’s what you want to start talking about at eleven-thirty at night?”

“Sure, you’re the one that breezed through your day,” she inhaled sharply. “If you’d rather go back and extrapolate on your day…”

“No,” he offered her his hand. “Will you sit?” He felt relieved when her fingers wrapped around his hand and she sat beside him. “Since it was dealer’s choice…how about you start?”

“Hmm,” she leaned back into the armrest. “Morality.”

“Morality? Going for the jugular, are we? Alright. Shoot.”

“Kant states that no successful argument for the existence of God arises from reason…and continues to say that in the failure of those arguments, morality requires that God’s existence is assumed,” she smirked.

He tilted his head and situated his body toward her. “Are you going to argue with me about the possibility of God, Catholic to Catholic?”

“I’m going to argue about the morality and possibility of God, academic to academic.” His smile was infectious and she matched it in kind. “Come on, Mr. Murdock: let’s see what you’ve got.”

 

“But what you’re arguing isn’t the existence of God,” she exclaimed. “You’re arguing about the conscience and that goes back to Newman!”

“Newman? I suppose you’re going to tell me about him now?”

“He was a bishop in the eighteen hundreds…you didn’t learn about him in school?”

“No, can’t say that I did.”

She crossed her arms and stretched her legs out across him. “He proposed that in conjunction with moral guidance, the conscience provided enough evidence that moral truths were supported by the divine…that to explain the conscience, God would have to exist.”

“But if you consider what Locke states, moral rules can’t be established from the conscience because of the differences between peoples leading to contradictions,” Matt argued with his glasses in his hand.

She rolled her eyes in a huff. “Just so you know, I rolled my eyes at you. Locke also states that people are influenced by company, customs, and their education. That’s not the issue here and interjecting Locke into the argument is laziness. You are trying to influence the argument by citing a partial argument that has nothing to do with what we have discussed.”

“You should have been a lawyer,” he chuffed, his hands resting on her shins. “You would have been one hell of an attorney had you stuck it out in law.”

Jen blew on her nails and pretended to polish them on her shoulder. “Thank you, Counselor. I’m taking that as a compliment from a most worthy adversary.”

“I’d love to listen to you argue with Foggy. He’s still getting used to not getting flustered, but he really knows how to get a crowd enthralled,” he smiled.

“I’ll have to do so sober…don’t think that I didn’t notice you pushing rum on me when you started to choke twenty minutes in,” she swished her glass around slowly.

“I would never. That would be… _immoral_ and _unethical_ ,” he chuckled. “As a good, Catholic boy, I’d not do such a thing.”

“Oh, okay.” He stifled a yawn. “You look tired, Matt” she observed to which he shrugged in response. “It’s after one.”

“I can stay if you want me to, but I don’t want to, uh…overstay my welcome,” his voice lethargic.

She stiffly got up and retrieved the bag Foggy had left. “I’ll let you know if that ever becomes a problem, Mr. Murdock. Go ahead and get yourself changed. You can have the bed tonight, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“How is that fair?” he dug into the bag, his eyes hidden under heavy lids. “You’re the one on vacation. I can’t do that.”

“It’s not negotiable. Chivalry or not, those are the rules tonight. Go on.” He stopped beside her, his chest heaved slowly from a mix of drink and tiredness and she thought something comforting about it. “I’ll be fine. I’ve slept on couches plenty of times since middle school. Go on. You lost the argument anyway, so as the winner I get the couch.”

 

The sheets didn’t feel like sandpaper against his skin, probably an added bonus to Jen’s tumultuous relationship with her university giving in to her demands. The sound of fabrics scraping and limbs thrashing had pulled him from sleep. _Jen._  
Her voice was strained, her breathing erratic and her heart beat wildly in her chest. He knew what this was: fear.

Matt ran from the bedroom and knelt beside her a hand running through her hair. “Jen…Jen wake up. You’re okay. Wake up.” Her thrashing became more violent, her limbs lashing out at anything in reach. “Hey, Jen! Wake up. It’s okay! Come on!” The average person may not have been able to sense that she was waking up, clawing at the layers of sleep like her life depended on it…but her vitals were less erratic. She was fighting the demon in her dreams, not realizing he was on the other side. He also knew that if he defended himself a little too well, Jen was smart enough to ask questions and know if he was lying. He made a calculated decision and let her punch him in the face as her right hand arced upward, slicing through the air.

Stick had put him through a deal of pain and bullshit in his time at the orphanage, but he didn’t recall getting hit this hard in ages. The punch wasn’t completely formed and he heard her ligaments creak in distress against the popping sound in her joints. He was propelled backward, purposely missing the small coffee table and landing on his back. _There she is. Now she’s awake._

“Oh my God, Matthew!” Jen fell off the couch, clamoring her way to his spot on the floor. “I’m so sorry! Oh my God!” Her shaking hands reached for the lamp and light flooded the room. “I didn’t mean…Oh Christ…your face!” she cried.

“Stop…Jen…stop, it’s okay…” he sat up on his elbows. “I’ve had a lot worse at my own doing as a blind guy. It’s okay. You had a nightmare.” He pushed himself up and reached for her hands, still shaking, and clasped both of his own around them. “You’re going to be okay. It doesn’t hurt that bad. Shh. I know. It’s okay.”

_I can’t remember the last time I cried…I mean…really cried. Oh wait…it was when Dom and I were running from the cops. I was afraid they were going to take me away for going after my dad…And Matt! Oh Christ, look what I did to him. His face is swollen…and it’s my fault. I’m shaking. Why am I shaking…I don’t understand…I’m still crying…and it’s so cold…what…I don’t…understand…_

“Shh, Jen…it’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you,” his voice soft. He cradled her against his torso while she wept uncontrollably into his shoulder. “You’re okay. I know you’re scared. He’s gone. He can’t hurt you. I’ve got you. He’s not going to find you here. It’s okay.”

 

She had cried herself to sleep somewhere around three-thirty, her head a welcome pressure on his shoulder. He grabbed her phone from the table and after a few failed attempts, was able to voice dial the one person he thought could help him.

Once it was ringing, he pressed randomly on the touch screen, hoping to find the area to turn off speaker phone with some success. There were three rings before a voice came over the other line, “ _What’s wrong?”_

“Hi, Dominic…it’s – it’s Matt.”

Dom rubbed his eyes and looked at the time, _“Is she alright? What’s going on?”_ Murdock’s sigh was enough of an indicator that something was off. “ _Are you with her right now?”_

“Yeah…yeah she’s asleep…she’s okay. Uh…on review, you’re probably wondering about circumstances…and…It’s not like what you think,” he back-pedaled.

_“It’s Mac. It doesn’t matter what I think, she’s always doing something that throws me for a loop and that’s her business. What’s going on?”_

“Long story short, I was asleep in one part of the room, she was asleep in the other and she was having a nightmare…so I tried to wake her up.”

Her best friend paused for a moment before saying, _“Then I guess I should be asking if you’re okay…did she clock you?”_

“Yeah, across the face. How long has she had these nightmares…do you know?”

 _“Pffffff,”_ he blew air out of his pursed lips in thought. _“As long as I can remember. High school at least…but I think she’s had them since…well…_ ”

“Her father.”

_“She told you then? Good for her. I keep telling her that it helps to talk about it. She doesn’t even really open up with me about it; and to be selfishly honest, I’m kind of glad. Are you okay?”_

Murdock yawned. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I might have a shiner by the end of the week. I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse… Any idea how I can help her?”

_“No idea. But if you figure something out, please feel free to share with the class. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gone to wake her up and landed across the room. She’s not holding back when she starts swinging. She broke my nose once! Socked me square in the face. We were in high school. She woke up, apologized, and then set it for me. It hurt like a bitch.”_

“Oh yeah, it stings. I…uh…just wanted to know if there was something I could do to help…”

_“You’re still with her and that’s something. Look, I’ve been trying to wake her up from that nightmare for…like…seven years. I don’t think she knows how to sleep without it because she never feels safe enough and that might just be the way it is for her. I dunno. But I haven’t stopped trying in seven years and keep getting hit in the face…so either I’m really stupid, or…”_

“Loyal, Dom. You’re her best friend. I know Foggy would do something like that for me…though I don’t know how forgiving he’d be if I punched him while I was sleeping.”

_“Hey, listen. You may not think anything of it because you guys talk for hours a couple times a month and at this rate, see each other one week a year…but…since you appeared in her life…she’s changing for the better. She’s calmer, more level-headed and – and I think a lot of that has to do with you. She and I are really similar in some ways and…well…I know you had a lot to do with getting her to my house at Thanksgiving…so thank you…I feel like…we walk this really fine edge in our friendship as long as we both stay on the path…it works…but she’s more apt to step off…if you know what I mean…”_

“Yeah…uh…you’re welcome. Thanks, Dom. Want me to tell her to call you tomorrow?”

_“Nah. You guys enjoy doing whatever it is you’re doing. Let her know she can call me before she takes off from JFK. Keep her safe. She’s not as indestructible as she thinks she is.”_

 

_Thursday_

Matt woke up first, his tailbone aching from his seated position on the floor. Jen hadn’t moved hardly at all the rest of the night. His cheek rested atop the crown of her head while his hand slowly threaded through her hair. His mind wandered to odd facets of her person: the smell of her soaps, the taste of rum lingering on her lips, the heat radiating from her hand that rested on his stomach; the depth of breath she took as she slept soundly. It was an odd instance to commit to memory as his eyes moved incongruent against the dark.  
“It’s alright, Jen. I’m here.”

He waited another hour, breathing in the breadth of her from their spot on the floor in front of the couch. His free hand reached for the hand at his stomach and began exploring for any residual damage she may have done. It was swollen and he could detect the change in temperature. He winced as his thumb and forefinger found that her pinky had been dislocated. Had he been paying attention, he would have fixed it while she was asleep.

Loud, obnoxious and startling Matt out of his senses, Jen’s alarm blared loudly from its spot at his side. He released her injured hand to grab it and handed it to Jen who was disgruntled and disgusted that she was brought out of sleep. Her fingers slid across the screen to disable the noise, her obvious choice of retaliation was to chuck her phone across the carpet.

“Morning, sunshine,” Murdock’s voice was rough in disuse. “Not to be the bearer of bad news, but I think that you dislocated your finger last night. I can reset if you want.”

She hissed and looked at the swollen joints of her right hand. “Did I mention how sorry I was? Christ, Matt. I hit you!” her face fell in recollection.

“It’s alright, I’m fine,” he didn’t move his cheek from her head. “But I’m going to warn you: it’s going to hurt if you have me do it.”

“I deserve it,” she winced, placing her injured hand in his.

“Now, I didn’t say that. Besides, you don’t know…maybe we like rival sports teams and now I can say I got into a brawl instead of running into the corner of a wall.” She laughed nervously, anticipating the pain that was going to come. “Jen, I’ve got you…okay? It’s going to hurt, but I’ve got you.”

“Okay.”

“You’re going to be just fine. On the count of three? One,” he soothed before he squeezed the bones of her hand and a resounding pop indicated they had realigned.

“What the…” she breathed, his arm moving back to its original position holding her against his side. “What happened to _two and three_?”

“Uh…doesn’t always work the best. You’re going to want to wrap it to your ring finger. Can you go get yourself some tape before you go to conference?”

“Yeah,” she hissed. “I don’t have a session until ten, so I’ve got time. Actually, I think downstairs in the lobby…there’s a little shop…I’ll call down and have them bring some up. Shit.” She shook her hand out a few times, scrutinizing the red tissue at the joint. “I should go get you some ice.”  
She leaned forward and turned to examine the damage she’d done. The light cast a golden hue across everything it touched. _Not limited to those eyes, though, right? I mean. Look at him._ A thumb and forefinger tilted his chin to bring the left of his face into better light. She’d managed to hit him at his temple and lamented at how close she had been to hitting him in the eye. The shadow signs of bruising had appeared, but she had a feeling that he wouldn’t get a full black eye from it.

“As I said last night, I’m fine. I’ve had worse. I’m not even mad about it, Jen. It’s okay.”

Her face contorted to covey her skepticism. “I’m still getting ice. And I’d like you to use it since I’m getting it.”

With the grace of a fence post, Jen got to her feet, staggering to the phone and dialed down to the desk. “Yes, do you have an medical tape in the courtesy shop downstairs? Yes. I managed to dislocate my finger and need to tape it up. You do?  …wonderful. Could you bring it to room 1106? Yes. MacDougall. Thank you.”  
Without a word, Jen grabbed the ice bucket and let her stiff legs carry her to the ice machine at the end of the hall.  
_Way to go, dumbass._

 

Jen had finished peeling an orange and placed it on Matt’s plate as they sat at the table before working on her own. He sat so his knuckles would occasionally brush against her forearm as she worked on their breakfast.

“What’s your day look like?” he leaned backward into his chair without moving his hand.

 _Comfortable conversation. Is that what I like about Matthew Murdock?_  
“Well,” she wiped her hands on her thighs and looked to his face. “My first session starts at ten. I have no idea what it is. Rachel suggested that I go and I took it on faith that it’s something I should do. I have sessions until three…uh…let me check and I can tell you.” She scrolled through her phone and found her schedule. “Ah, yeah…here we go…I have three to four-thirty free…and then another group session on the _Expertise of Finance_ …whatever that means…starts at five. And then I’m supposed to go to this large group thing at seven…not getting out until nine-thirty or ten if I’m lucky.”

“You’ve got a full day stacked,” he quipped before taking an orange slice and popping into his mouth. “Thursday’s my long day. I have class until seven-thirty…after eight if the professor keeps talking about his cat.”

She pursed her lips. “I’ve got one of those. They’re my Ethics professor…only she has a ferret. And brings a PowerPoint on her laptop to show us in our _free time_.”

He choked on the fruit with laughter. “That is so much worse! I can’t imagine being in that class.”

“Oh…no? I can.” She cleared her throat and poorly imitated his voice, “ ‘ _Uh, professor? Can I be excused? I can’t see shit. No…please…don’t describe it to me_ ’. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I don’t sound like that. Pretty sure you’ve never actually listened to my voice.”

She stuck out her tongue at him. “Course I have. Definitely sounds like that. I am a master impressionist. Please take note of how my Christopher Walken impression is spot on.”

She attempted to imitate Walken, but it sounded just like the impression of Matt she’d just done. “Hate to break it to you, but don’t quit your day job. That was awful.”

“You just don’t have good taste in art,” she scoffed, popping the last slice of orange into her mouth, clearing the table.

“Uh…I can’t see it, doesn’t mean I can’t taste art. I taste art in the form of ice cream all the time…that’s an art I can appreciate,” he joked, his lips parted into a wide smile. She was puttering in the sink, pouring coffee for the pair of them.

Jen set down the mugs on the table carefully and guided his hand to it, telling him where the milk and sugar were in relation to his cup. As he leaned forward, she gingerly tilted his head toward the light to get a better look at his temple. He hadn’t realized that his hand had come up to rest at her hip while she evaluated the damage she’d inflicted.

Murdock became distinctly aware of how close she was to him and wasn’t upset about it either. “I’m okay, Jen.”

“I feel like an asshole. I can just hear the conversation with Dom now: _‘So, Jen…how was the conference?’_ Oh, you know, fine. By the way, I totally hit a blind guy in the face. _‘What the fuck, Mac_ ’.”  
“Yeah, it’ll go a lot like that.”

“Jen, please,” he paused to turn his head toward her. “Don’t do the guilt thing about this. Okay? I’m fine.” _Her heart rate…it’s increasing…but…oh…right…_  
Murdock removed his hand from her hip, a nervous laugh caught in his throat. “Sorry.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice, sir,” her voice low enough that it had a raspy quality to it.

Puzzled, his brows knit together. “I – I’m confused…what did I do?”

“Hmm,” she smirked. “You started calling me _Jen_ after we went to the gym. I heard you saying my name two nights ago when I was having that nightmare…it brought me out of the dark.”

“Oh…I didn’t…realize…I’m sorry…uh…well…Mac…”

“It’s fine,” she hadn’t moved. “There’s something about the way you say it that makes it okay, I think.” Her head tilted in thought. “I think…you know…when other people say my name, it’s always just a way to get my attention, you know? Which is why Mac always worked with Dom…it was like a secret name…and I told you and Foggy…but…”

“But?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know. The way you say it…it’s like – like my name might actually mean something…like it matters. So…it’s okay.”

“Hmpf,” a flicker of a knowing smile appeared.

“You’re a good thing, Matthew Murdock,” she leaned down and placed a light kiss in his hair. “And I’ll fight anyone that says anything different.” Jen turned and left to get dressed.

Matt sat quietly in his thoughts doing his best not to listen to her getting dressed in a demonstration of chivalrous privacy. He sipped his black coffee hoping that its acrid acidity would help bring him to his senses, but he was left swimming in his thoughts.  
_Calming? Oh…nope. This is something different altogether…and it could be dangerous. I feel hazy when she’s close and sharper than any knife I’ve seen when she’s talking to me…like I need air underwater when you try to see how long you can hold your breath…that feeling when you break the surface and that first gulp burns every fiber of your being but it’s screaming and shouting at you that you are alive…that’s what Jennifer MacDougall is to me… And that is absolutely thrilling...and terrifying._

 

After class, Foggy and Matt met up to compare notes on the same lecture they had received at opposite ends of the day…and to drink while Jen was at conference. They traversed across campus in the cold toward a burger joint that Foggy had previously promised Jen they would get her dinner from. Darkness had already swept over the city and the golden streetlights of campus cast a warm glow on everything they touched.

“I knew I should have signed up to take the same section as you; I feel like Maille doesn’t hit their stride until the evening anyway; they’ve gotta be half asleep when I take ‘em nine o’clock…you always talk about all these cool connection points you get and I’m just sitting in my class thinking why the hell am I doing this in the first place,” Foggy whined.

“Well, I dunno, man,” Matt shrugged. “But it’s good we compare. I mean, Maille leaves out stuff from your morning class that’s important.”  
He sniffed the cold air, “You gettin’ that? I smell…the divinity of grease and bacon and burgers.”

“Yeah, buddy. I caught a whiff of it when we rounded the corner. You think she’s going to be hungry?”

“Defnintely,” Murdock fished his phone from his pocket and handed it to his best friend. “Read the texts. Some of them are really funny.”

Foggy opened up his messages and read through his most recent conversations with Jen.

“ ‘ _This is really boring.’_  
‘I’m beginning to second guess why I became a business major in the first place. I’m a hangry kind of person. Where’s dinner?’  
‘Are you ignoring me while you’re in class? I hope so. This is the worst. Like…I’m supposed to be some civilized asshole and survive on five cocktail shrimp and one piece of bruschetta on a crostini.’  
‘If I smile and promise not to pick on you for two hours, will you please, for the love of God, buy dinner? I’ll pay you when we meet up…no onions…or peas. …anything else is fair game.’  
“To which, you replied, ‘How about a burger from the place Foggy was talking about yesterday’, and she replied with two crying emojis, a heart, praying hands, and a happy face.”

Matt chuckled, “With all of the parties that we’ve crashed, I feel like it’s our…obligation, to help this poor soul. Show her the way on how to correctly prepare for these kind of events…and how to have a post-game plan for when the party’s a bust.”

“Agreed,” Foggy’s voice full of resolve. “We are taking young MacDougal under our wing!”

“You realize she’s only six months or so younger than us.”

“Doesn’t matter, buddy. This is all for bravado and dramatic effect…tonight! WE FEAST ON CHEESEBURGERS! AND MORE BEER!” He snatched Matt’s wallet from his hand, “AND YOU’RE PAYING!”  Foggy charged into the diner, leaving Matt outside in stitches on the sidewalk.

 

“Someone’s pleasantly drunk,” Jen’s voice light as Murdock strode across the lobby. “You can _almost_ walk in a straight line.”

“You know, if I concentrate really hard, I can almost walk in a straight line when I’m sober, too,” his voice still carrying echoes of laughter from earlier. “But if you’re going to be judgmental, I’m going to have to eat your cheeseburger in the elevator. In front of you.” He hooked his hand onto her arm and let her lead him up to her room.

Her lip jutted out into a pout, “That’s cruel. They only had fancy hors d’oeuvres for the entire night! It’s not like I could slide a plate into my bag!”

“You could have,” he argued as the elevator climbed.

“Sure,” she agreed, still pouting, “Had I brought my purse.”

“You – you didn’t? What were you thinking? That’s just…poor…planning!”

She glanced down at the brown bag in Matt’s hand. “Please…sir…don’t hold my cheeseburger hostage. It deserves to be eaten by me…and some nice dude bought it for me.”

“Oh, then that changes everything. Especially if he was a _nice dude_.”

“He can be,” she shrugged as the doors opened. “He can also be a tool which is probably why we get along.”

“I’m a tool? Since when? No…no, no, no; see, what you meant to say was cool,” Matt shoved into her playfully as the pair moved through the hallway. “I’m pretty sure I remember you saying I was cool.”

“Figment of your imagination,” she assured plainly before breaking into a snort. “God…that food sucked so bad at this session. Thank you for getting me dinner.”

“Uh-huh. Don’t think that you’re off the hook.”

Jen opened the door to her room and allowed Matt inside first to drop his things off as she ran to get ice for the evening. She rounded the corner to find Josh leaning on the ice machine doing his best to look aloof. His gray t-shirt as a half-size too small and was probably chosen to try and show off what physique he had; his shorts hung low on his waist. It was no secret that Josh had professional disdain for her, but she’d also heard the whispers about how he personally saw Jen as a challenge and trophy.

“Josh, excuse me,” she cleared her throat. “I’d like to use the ice machine, if you’d please?”

“Kitty’s playing nice tonight? That’s a change. I was expecting you to keep gloating about the Duquesne thing.” His arms crossed in front of his chest, a blatant attempt to make his biceps look bigger.  
“Look, I know that you and I don’t play nice at school…but that doesn’t mean we can’t play nice in other arenas.”

“No. Just…no,” she replied. “Thank you, but no.”

“Why not? There’s a blatant connection between the two of us,” he stepped forward. “The game you play at school is cute.”

“ _Connection_? You’re delusional. You and your frat brothers come up with this kind of shit for fun? That’s sick. Josh, get out of my way. I want to use the ice machine and your room isn’t even on this floor,” her voice flat. “Leave me be.”

He stepped to the side, allowing passage to the machine. Jen grabbed the ice that she needed and turned on her heel. Josh was close on her heels when she came to an abrupt halt outside of her door causing her shadow to nearly run into her.  
“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Having a nightcap.”

“No the fuck you are not,” she hissed. “What are you on, man? Get the hell back to your room and leave me alone.” A lecherous smile and glazed eyes made her stomach sink. “You are not coming into my room.”

“You could always come to mine.”

She felt exposed. She had changed into her tank top and shorts once she had returned to her room for the night and Josh’s lingering gaze reminded her of someone she’d rather forget from her past.  
“No. Let it go or you’re going to regret tonight for the rest of your life. Jenna’s the one that’s got a thing for you, Josh. You want a booty call that bad, give her a ring. You’re not getting anywhere here.”

He frowned and reached for her arm, ice spilling from her bucket as she pulled away. “Come on, babe. You know that you want me. I can tell.”

“I have a guest,” she tried to reason peaceably as her temper was rising in her throat. _You promised. You promised that you wouldn’t. Relax your God damned hand, woman._ “I am not opening this door until you leave.”

He leaned heavily against the wall, “Kinky. I can get behind a threesome.”

“Josh, you need to listen to me.” Her voice was low and in a growl, “You know what happened with Prieto last year. I know you two were…close. If you know what’s fucking good for you, even a little bit in the state you’re in…you’re going to stay the hell away from me.”

The door to her room swung open fiercely and Matt was standing in the doorway. “Miss MacDougall,” his brows furrowed together as his face showed his displeasure. “I heard you speaking through the door and realized you’d locked yourself out since your keycard was left on the table. If you are ready to continue, we can discuss the matters of your case against your attacker and finalize your statement.”

“ _Statement?_ ” Josh’s tone prying.

“It’s fine,” Jen informed. “He’s a classmate; he’ll probably hear about it soon anyway.”

“Well, as far as pertinent details of the case, I cannot divulge those to you, Mr…?”

“Michalka,” he responded and jutted his hand in Matt’s direction. “And you are?”

“Matt Murdock,” he took his hand and shook it firmly. “I am Miss MacDougall’s attorney.” Matt turned in her direction to address her, “If you’d like to finish your conversation before we discuss the details of the assault, I can wait at the table. Please keep in mind that I do charge by the quarter hour at this time of night.”

“Absolutely,” she nodded. “I’ll be brief.”

He could hear the delight in her voice at this charade, her heart merrily beating against the fast pace of Josh’s.  
“Michalka…” Matt pondered aloud, his hand on the doorframe, fingers drumming against the wood. “Miss MacDougall, didn’t you say that there was a gentlemen harassing you with a name similar to that?”

Josh’s eyes widened in horror, a cold sweat breaking on his brow. “Excuse me, I have to grab something from downstairs.” With an abrupt turn, Josh staggered down the hallway and made his way to the elevator as he dragged his torso against the walls.

To her amazement, Matt somehow had found her hand, his clasping around it. She turned to face him, her expression quizzical. “Come along, MacDougall. I’ve got you.”

“So it would seem,” she smirked as he tugged her into her room. “Thanks for that.”

Matt shut the door behind her and rolled his head, his shoulders still squared off from the discussion in the hall. “I heard you getting cranky through the door. What was all that about?” _I know exactly what that was about. What an ass._

“Josh’s fairly harmless. He’s a prick and recently got a hard on for me.” She pulled out their choice of liquor and a pair of glasses, setting them on the coffee table. “There’s no way he’s sober.”

“Why do you say that,” his hands flexed at his side. _At least she’s still being honest._

Jen took note of his body language and posture as she moved about the room. “He doesn’t have the balls to say any of the shit he said to me in the hall ever at school. He wouldn’t dare. He knows that I could make his life a living hell and get him kicked out of school for something like that.”

“He could just be an asshole,” he grumbled.

She nodded. _That’s a realistic possibility._ “Oh, he is. Just not that forward of an asshole to me personally. Professionally? Sure.”

“Hmm.”

“Hey,” she stood up, blankets draped over her arm. “Thank you.”

“Mmm? Oh…yeah…you’re welcome.”

“I’m okay. The door’s shut and locked. You can relax, hero.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jen tossed the textiles onto the couch and grabbed the bag with her burger, placing it next to her glass. “Come on, big guy,” she pressed a hand to his elbow and waist. “Here’s the couch. Have a seat.”  
“Are you drinking tonight?” her hand resting on the bottle of scotch.

“I went out with Fog beforehand. Had a nice buzz going until five minutes ago,” he soured. “Sorry. I’m good now.”

“Okay,” she took the glasses and filled them with water before returning to sit on the couch next to him. Noisily, she dug into the bag and withdrew her long awaited prize. She could smell the grease through its wrapper and was delighted at how gloriously bad this burger was going to be.  
She began unwrapping the burger, noting that he had gone quiet. “Your body language,” she divulged with a nudge of her shoulder. “You squared off your shoulders and your hands looked like they were ready to get to work. Stood straighter, too.”

“Oh? I didn’t notice.”

“Yes, you did,” she corrected. “That was a lie.”

A weary smile broke the hard line he’d pressed his lip into. “I forgot that you’re a lie detector.”

“Oh my God,” she sighed after taking a bite. “This burger is amazing. I haven’t eaten anything since noon. God bless you, Matt Murdock. The savior from assholes and deliverer of cheeseburgers.”  
“If you kick the bucket early, I’m asking for you to be canonized.”

“I’m as far from a saint as you can get,” he leaned back. “Plus I don’t think patron saint of cheeseburgers is a thing.”

“Nah, I’m gonna make it a thing,” she argued. “How was class?”

“It wasn’t bad,” he recalled. His glasses were placed on the side table and a hand rubbed his face. “I was only subjected to cat stories for twenty minutes.”

She snorted and coughed, her fist pounding into her chest. “Can you give me,” she gasped, “A warning when you’re going to crack jokes as I’m eating? Christ!”

“Sorry. Couldn’t tell by the way it sounds like you’re making out with your food.”

“You know what,” her tone was playful as she wiped her mouth with a napkin and turned to face him. “Don’t be jealous. I like food. And this cheeseburger is dope, especially because you remembered that I didn’t want onions. We need a patron saint of cheeseburgers, Matt. You don’t know what kind of trendsetter you could be.”

“Great. I can see the sign to my firm now: _Nelson and Murdock: Attorneys at Law…and patron saints of cheeseburgers._ ” His head rested on the heel of his hand as his arm propped it up on the back of the couch. “Foggy’s going to love it.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” She caught him with a shadow of a smile on his face. The gold light from the lamp was casting a coincidental saintly glow on his features. His eyes were unfocused toward her leg but she knew that he was being attentive. “I like it.”

“I’m glad,” he chuckled. “Though, I’m going to warn you, you might get a nasty case of heartburn. That place is the epitome of a college kid’s diet.”

“I mean, yes, the burger’s great. I meant Nelson and Murdock. You and Foggy are serious, huh?”

“I guess. Saving the world, one case at a time if we’re still friends at the end of law school.”

“Reminds me of that story about the kid and the starfish,” she squinted in thought.

“The starfish?”

“Yeah,” she stretched her legs out across his. “There’s a kid walking on the beach and picks up every starfish that he sees on the beach…and…throws each one as hard as he can back into the ocean. This old guy comes along and shakes his head at the kid. Says something like, ‘Look, kid. There’s a million starfish that wash up on shores all over the world every day…it doesn’t matter’ as the kid has another starfish in his hands.”

“Oh yeah? So what’s the kid say?”

Jen stared into his face. _Not that he can tell, per se._ “He looks down at the starfish in his hands and then he just chucks it as far as he can back into the water and…and looks up at the old man and says, ‘It matters for that one’.”

“So…Foggy and I are saving a bunch of starfish? Not as glamorous as we would have hoped.” He rolled up the sleeves on his dark sweater before returning to his original position, his free hand resting above her ankle. His tongue swept across his lower lip and he blinked quickly. “Foggy’ll drop the firm and go be a butcher.”

“Nah, I don’t think so. But the analogy still stands. You two have good hearts; you’ll do good work. I have every confidence in that. Besides, you two are like an old married couple at this point. There’s nothing that could pull you two apart.”

 “Glad I could help,” he patted her leg. “Are you done eating?”

“Yeah. Still hungry?”

“Kind of. We drank _a lot_ earlier…and I’m still hungry…” She handed him the other half of her burger and slouched down into the couch. Matt devoured the last of the food in a few bites and he wiped his mouth.

“What was the occasion?”

“You. Fog said it was part two of our celebrations from yesterday. He really,” he started laughing, “He really doesn’t need a reason for celebrating. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

“I bet. So, what does the great Matt Murdock want to talk about this evening?” she sighed, her belly full and a contented pleasantness seeping into her limbs. “I’m sure that you didn’t just come over to eat half of my food and save me from jackasses. I mean, you did…that’s cool and all. But I’m sure that it’s not an effective use of time.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he frowned in thought. “Anything, really.”

She made a scoff-like noise in the back of her throat. “You know, Mr. Murdock, you were more chipper before you talked to Josh out in the hallway. What’s eating at you? Talk to me about that.”

 _What? That I don’t like the way he talks to you or what he suggested down the hall? That my stomach felt like it was in knots because I didn’t know if I should go out to you or not…or that I felt a pit carve its way into my chest when I heard your heart begin to race when he didn’t get the hint? I can’t._  
“He’s a creep, Jen. I just…I don’t know. I could have done something…anything…more to help you not have to deal with him. I guess. But all I did was open the door and fashion myself a lawyer.”

“You _will be_ a lawyer,” she asserted. “You’re at the top of your class this year, going to law school next… and I know you’re going to pass the bar the first time you take the exam.” The corner of his mouth pulled inward in annoyance. “There’ll always going to be jerks and sleaze balls, Matt. It meant a lot, you know, you coming out into the hall and putting him in his place.”

“But, it might not have been enough. You know? What’s to keep him from bothering you later, huh?” Worry pulled at his features. “I only get to see you for five days and he’s near you during school…you’ve got to deal with him for another four months.”

“Is this a matter of you being upset at how he speaks and acts towards me or in the circumstances that we find our friendship’s proximity puts us in? Or…like…how do I want to word this,” she paused for a beat. “I guess, simply, are you mad at him, mad at yourself, or mad at me?”

“You? How could I be mad at you?” he puzzled, his voice low.

She shrugged. “Not deliberately. But like you said, I’m only here for five days. After that, I go back to Ohio and we go back to talking on the phone every couple of days.”  
“You’re a good person, Matt, and I appreciate you. Truly. You know, when Dom tries to comfort me…he always says that I’ve got him. I guess it’s his way of making sure that I know he needs me to be around…but you…last night and this morning…you said, ‘I’ve got you’ to me. It’s comforting. And I believe wholly that you’ve got my back in whatever might come my way.”  
“So, are you mad because you feel like you can’t have my back when I’m not here?”

“I mean,” he shifted uncomfortably, his shoulders curling forward. “I guess. A little…”

“That’s okay,” Jen’s voice was growing quieter as her tiredness grew. “I feel the same about you when I’m in Ohio. I worry about you getting mugged…or…I have this inane fear that you’re going to fall down a fire escape and not know where you are. It wakes me up sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Yep,” she nodded, her hair making a noise against the couch fabric as she moved. “I have to resist the urge to call you at three and four in the morning some days because I know that you’re sleeping. And as a college student, that’s a high priced commodity.”

 _Oh Jesus, Jen MacDougall. You’re something._ “I didn’t know you cared so much,” he patted her leg again. “Makes me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.”

“Tell you what,” she yawned quickly. “If you promise to have my back, I’ve got yours, too.”

A lazy smile formed on his mouth. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. What are friends for?”

“Alright then, I have a proposal for you,” he replied while she yawned again. “I stay here again.”

“M’kay,” she mumbled. “I just assumed that you were.”

“I’ll stay with you as you sleep.”

Jen popped an eyebrow up, the lids of her eyes felt as if they were being pulled down by weights. She peered over at the time, noting it was close to one-thirty. “Stay with me as I sleep? Meaning what, exactly?”

“Look, the past two nights, you’ve slept soundly after I’ve come out here. I’m proposing that I stay nearby. You might sleep through the whole night. You’re exhausted.”

“Uh-huh,” he could hear her smile in her voice. “I’m always exhausted. If you wanted to sleep next to me, you could have asked, Murdock.” She used her foot to jab him in the side. “I’m too tired to argue…come on,” she stood gracelessly.

“Where?”

“I’m sleeping in that bed,” she stretched her arms to the ceiling. “It’s my turn. If you’re sleeping nearby, logically,” her arms flopped down to her side, “That means you’re sleeping in a that-wardly direction, sir. So…come on, give me your hand.”

“I won’t do anything, I promise,” he assured, her hand wrapping around his fingers to guide him to his new destination.

“I know,” she yawned again. “Here,” she handed him his bag, “Go and change. I’ll fix things out here. If you need help finding anything, give me a holler.”

He felt his heart thumping against his ribs. “Hmm, alright.” As he changed into his shorts and t-shirt, her puttering in the bedroom kept distracting him. He could hear her moving textiles and pillows around and she had retrieved the water glasses from the coffee table, putting one on each side table. _She’s moved some things to the floor. Good._  
“Alright,” he opened the bathroom door and pretended to fumble with the handle. “Where to?”

She lifted her head up and squinted, “Uh, I’d say take three steps to your two-o’clock…yep…there you go…now, two steps toward twelve…one more…there. Turn toward nine…five steps? Maybe four. I have to do it in five, but you’re a little taller than me.”

Matt’s shins pressed up against the side of the bed after he had followed her directions. “I thought I was sleeping on the floor,” he questioned, his hands reaching out to find the particulars of the area.

“Nah, we can be adults about it. Besides, you haven’t seen your face the past two mornings. I can tell that sleeping on the couch and the floor hasn’t been your absolute favorite. That’s your half of the bed, sir. I even got you your fluffy, green blanket from the couch in case you wanted it,” her voice was rather matter of fact.

“But…aren’t you worried about what people might say?”

Jen rolled over to face him from the opposite side of the bed. “Uh…no? Unless there’s a camera in here I’m unaware of…this is really no different than me waking up next to you on the couch or the floor. So…get on your half and go to sleep…and we’ll see if you’re right in the morning.”

“Jen, that’s a bit ridiculous…”

“…I said I wasn’t going to argue with you, Matt,” she chided. “That also means you don’t get to argue with me either. Come on. I’m tired. Go to sleep.”

Chivalrous and reluctant, Matt mumbled under his breath as he slid into his side of the bed, words like stubborn and annoying coming out of his mouth. He knew she could hear and he could feel the energy around her change as she grinned, a soft rustle of fabric against her face as she did so. She clicked off her light once she’d settled and nestled herself into her pillow. Matt’s rhythmic breathing had begun to lull her to sleep.  
Right as he was falling into the welcome abyss, he heard her hushed voice cut through the dark, “Wouldn’t Foggy love a picture of _this_.”


	6. With a Little Help from My Friends

_Friday_

Jen had been dallying somewhere in the limbo of consciousness and sleep for a while. She was comfortable under the covers of her bed and didn’t want to get up. At some point, she’d rolled over in her sleep to face her friend and found that his hand had latched itself to hers; the warmth and pulse of his heart radiating through his palm.  
She didn’t recall waking up in the middle of the night, but she also didn’t always remember when Dom slept nearby and got knocked in the face either.

It was comfort, she thought, that made her not want to get out of bed and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this coming out of sleep. It felt like one of those mornings where, you’d taken a long shower the night before and your body felt like it belonged to the bed; the air outside a little cool to urge you to stay put. _Plus, there’s something to say about Matthew Murdock, but that’s beside the point_. Jen realized that she could smell Matt faintly. He smelled clean and of scotch…and a dash of shaving gel and it suited him.  
Jen propped one eye open to see how early it was and was relieved darkness still blanketed the room. Without disturbing him, she rolled over and used her other hand to check the time: **_4:22_.**

“Hmph,” she chuckled quietly to herself. “That takes me back,” she mumbled, rolling back to her original position, his hand tightening around hers. She didn’t realize she was verbalizing her Sunday School memory _“Yes, Father…Mark 4:22; For there is nothing hidden, but it must be disclosed, nothing kept secret except be brought to light._ Huh. That’s funny. _”_  
Drifting back to sleep, Jen took great comfort knowing that she didn’t have to get up until seven.

Matt mumbled, his voice experiencing vocal fry, “I’ve got you.”

She nodded and pulled the cover over her shoulder, “I know you do. Go back to sleep.”

 

Matt shot upward from the bed at the realization that Jen wasn’t where he thought she should have been and his phone was ringing. His hearing went into overdrive in an effort to find her, but the beginning morning bustle of the hotel was causing him to lose focus with the number of distractions taking over.

_“Jen. Jen. Jen. Jen.”_

He sprinted from the bed and slid across the carpet to his phone, “Are you alright?”

_“Morning to you, too. Yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry that I stepped out. Are you okay?”_

_To be honest, you gave me a damn heart attack. Oh Christ, I’m hungover._ “Yeah…my head’s killing me. I might be dying. Where are you?”

_“Getting breakfast. I wrote you a note, and then I realized as I was out I was an asshole because you weren’t going to see it after I left. Sorry that I’m a schmuck. What do you wanna eat? I’m over near 58 th at Fluffy’s. Rachel suggested it the other day…OH MY GOD THEY HAVE CHALLAH FRENCH TOAST. AND THEY DELIVER!”_

He chuckled and shook his head. “Uh, yeah. It’s good.”

_“I feel like you’ve been holding out on me, Murdock. This place is open twenty-four hours. Why haven’t I been brought to this glorious establishment?”_

“It was a personal attack. You’ve seen through my ruse. But…if you’re still offering to buy breakfast…”

_“Yeah, yeah…what do you want?”_

“I’ll take a number 3 breakfast special with bacon.”

“ _Breakfast special, number three; bacon. Got it. Anything else?”_

“Nah, I think that’s it. I’m going to figure out how to make coffee.”

_“You know…hang on…Yeah, can I get an order of Challah French Toast with strawberries and a number three breakfast special? …Bacon.  …Yes, thanks,”_ he heard the cash register drawer open and close over the phone. _“If you walk over to the coffee pot, I can assist your hungover ass.”_

“How kind of you,” he walked to the counter and stopped in front of it. The potency of the coffee filled his nostrils. “Did – did you already preset it or…you know…whatever…?”

_“Yeah, you can thank me when I get back. It’s plugged in and all. Take your hand to the base and drag it left until you feel three ridges.”_

“…Uh-huh…”

_“Carefully lift your hand along those ridges until you feel a button.”_

“Push the button?”

_“I wouldn’t, no…that’ll eject the coffee catch thing. Go up one more button.”_

His tongue poked into the side of his cheek as he joked, “So that button.”

_“Jesus, Murdock, no. The button to the left of that. That’s the start button.”_

Fingers expertly followed her directions and found the button to ignite the brewer into life. With a chuffed grin, he turned back toward the bedroom to find his clothing for the day. “How’d you know?”

_“Know what?”_

Matt began changing into a pair of navy dockers and a white, button-up shirt for class. “Those directions. They were spot on.”

_“Oh, that,”_ she replied quick. _“Well, once I realized I was hungry because someone ate the other half of my dinner last night despite having had burgers of his own earlier,_ ” her voice teasing him through the phone, _“I stared at the coffee pot because I knew I was going to want some later and you’d probably feel the same. Though, I wasn’t sure if you were going to be hungover or not…anyway… I didn’t want to start it while you were sleeping because…well…you were snoring when I got up…and…”_

“I was not.”

_“Yes, you were, princess. ANYWAY…after looking at it for a solid five minutes debating whether I should turn it on or not and make the smell of coffee wake you up, I closed my eyes and tried to figure out what it felt like for you…only I’m not as good at it since you’ve got years of practice on me…and kind of committed it to memory. Oh, and my medicine bag is to the right on the counter. If you reach behind it, there’s a bottle of Tylenol.”_

“Miss MacDougall, did you just do something _nice_ for me before seven in the morning?”

_“How could you possibly know that it’s before seven? Did you cheat and have your phone tell you?”_

He finished the last few buttons at his chest before working on the cuffs. “No. But you can’t order a number three special before six and you had mentioned last night before you got back to your room that your first session was at nine today…so…”

_“You guessed.”_

“I guessed. Accurately, though.”

_“Whatever. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. I got your damn sandwich.”_

 

“Can I ask you something without it being weird?”

Matt pulled his head backward from his sandwich and stopped chewing, swallowing hard. The pair were sitting quietly on a bench outside the Butler Library at Columbia while they ate their breakfast. She had picked him up on the way back once she realized that he had class at eight and could potentially be late.  
“Depends on your definition of weird, I guess. Shoot.”

She continued to shovel French toast into her mouth. “ ‘ell, dhere’s a…dinner… ‘r somfin…” she swallowed, “Tomorrow. I find out today if I earned an invitation to go. But,” she took another bite, “ ‘f I go…I ge’ a pluff one.”

“Okay, okay,” his chest heaved from laughter. “I’m going to need you to stop it with the breakfast or – or I just might piss myself from laughing. Sounds like you’re really going at it.”

Jen finished chewing and swallowed, annoyance on her face, “Listen here, mister: this is some of the best damn French toast I’ve had in a decade and you…the person who supposedly has magnificent hearing…are keeping me from it? How could you? I thought we were friends?”

“We are. But even I have limitations, you know. How about you start over and I’ll really pay attention to the words your saying this time rather than the sound of you chewing.”

“Ouch,” the pitch of her voice increasing. “That almost stung. Fine. So…there’s a dinner tomorrow night at The Carlyle Restaurant. Don’t know where it is, so don’t ask. Now, I won’t find out if I am invited until today, but…those that are invited get to take a plus one. Would you want to go?”

“Jen MacDougall, are you asking me on a date?” he jabbed.

As he went to take a bite of his sandwich, she punched him lightly in the arm. “No, asshat. I’m asking you if you want to go to a dinner for free at a fancy hotel…if I get picked to go.”

“Ow. I’m telling Fog that you tried to fight me this morning.”

She shrugged and went back to eating her breakfast. “He’ll probably call me asking what you did to instigate.”

“No way,” he swallowed the last few bites of food. “He’d want to know what you did to me. I’m a nice guy.”

Another snort and bob of her head. “Sure. And I’m the pope.”

“What?” he challenged, “I am. It’s _you_. You’re the bad influence. I was a saint before you.”

“ ‘ow ‘at’s a lie,” her mouth full. “You just got done saying that you aren’t a saint. And saints are boring. I don’t hang out with saints.”

His arms crossed against his chest and his shoulders squared off. “I thought you were campaigning to make me the patron saint of cheeseburgers. Did that change all of the sudden?”

“Saints are boring once they become saints. You should know that. We only get taught the good deeds they’ve done and how some of them struggled…but we don’t get to know them as people. Those stories get lost. We get taught to be them after they’ve discovered divinity…not before. Didn’t you pay attention at Sunday school?”

“Apparently not, Sister Jen.”

“Okay, okay; deserved,” she finished her breakfast and tossed the trash away. She stood in front of him, her hands stuffed into her pockets against the cold morning air. “Alright, Murdock. Let’s go. Up.”

He stood, puzzled, but did as asked and was surprised when her arms reached around him in an embrace. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, gave a squeeze and they parted.

“Your tie is askew,” she already had her hands on the knot at his neck and adjusted it. “There. Now you don’t look like a total tool.”

“Aww…that’s great. Now I only look like a partial tool.”

She tapped the tie against his chest and roughly patted his face. “Now you’re getting it. Go to class, hot shot. Let me know if we’re going out later. I’m done at seven today.”

 

Jen waltzed into the Lion’s Head Tavern near their campus having changed into a pair of dark jeans, boots, and a plaid tunic.

“Matt, buddy, if you two aren’t dating, you need to do something about that soon,” Foggy whispered harshly into his friend’s ear.

“What? Why?”

“Because,” he gripped his forearm, “If you could see what I’m seeing right now, you would _not_ let her go any time soon. She’s on fire. I think this is the first time I’ve seen her in civilian clothes, like…ever.”

Matt sipped his scotch, “You saw her at a fight club, Fog.”

“This is different…dude, if you could see her in these jeans… Jen, _hey_ …how are you? How was conference day? You look great, by the way.”

“Thanks, Foggy,” she shrugged off her coat. “Conference was good. Plenty of sessions on how to think both abstractly and concretely about business, how to keep employees motivated, motivational speakers…”

Matt could hear the underlying tone in her voice, “But you were bored.”

“Oh God,” she rested her head in her hands on the table. “So bored. How am I going to do this for the rest of my life? I go to these sessions because they’re supposed to be good for me…but it’s just the same thing over and over again said different ways.”

“It’ll get better once you get out into the field,” Foggy assured her. “I mean, that’s how I feel about law school. It’s got to be normal.”

Matt nodded in agreement. “Besides, from what Dom has said, you’re doing pretty well at handling your own back in Ohio. You’re running half the business school and you’re working for seven professors. I think you’re going to do just fine.”

“Yeah?” she picked her head up. “If you say so. Alright. I’m buying. What’ll it be, boys?”

“Scotch for Murdock; I’ll take a beer.” Jen got up and went to the bar, leaving her Columbia boys at their table. “I’m serious, man. She’s smokin’ tonight. Like I said, those jeans…and her hair! God, Matt. Those boots, too. Definitely a stunner. If you don’t go with her to that dinner tomorrow, I definitely am.”

“Wait, she’s going to the dinner?”

“Yeah,” Foggy smirked. “Called at lunch time to ask what we were doing because you didn’t message at all during the day. Told me she got her invitation for some project that she did while she was here. That’s what you get for no follow through, my man.”  
“So when she gets back over here, you better act surprised when she tells you that she got the invitation.”

“She’s going to know you told me.”

“How? Just pretend!”

“Fine. Your funeral. Five bucks she makes you break.”

Jen returned with drinks and passed them to their owner, taking a long draw from her scotch. The warm, liquid fire coated the back of her throat and warmed her gut. “I got an invitation to go to a dinner tomorrow.”

“Oh, wow,” Matt did his best to enthuse. “That’s awesome!”

Her eyes slowly dragged over from Matt to Foggy. “Seriously? You told him?”

“What? No!” Foggy defended.

“You know I can tell when he’s lying, right? I’m like a damn lie detector,” she sipped again, eyes not moving from Foggy. “And I specialize in the Matthew Murdock variety of lies.” He squirmed a little under her gaze. “Sir, you seem to be uncomfortable.”

“Alright, Jesus!” Foggy’s hands shot up. “It was an accident!” He dug into his pocket to retrieve his wallet and put five dollars in his best friend’s expectant hand. “Shut up, Murdock,” he snapped at him.

“And that, Mr. Murdock, is how you hustle,” she grinned devilishly into her glass.

Foggy’s mouth dropped agape. “You two…! You! You’re a pair of assholes!”

Matt nodded, his head tilting to his shoulder. “Guilty, but to be fair, she’s the one that assumed you’d tell me that she’d got selected.”

“When did you two even talk?”

Her smile didn’t leave her face, but her eyes had softened. “After I called you, duh. We made a bet.” She extended her hand toward Matt and rapped her knuckles on the table. Matt placed his recently earned five dollars into her hand.

“Devils, the both of you. See if I talk to you two ever again!” Foggy exclaimed, dejected.

“It’s inevitable,” Jen shrugged. “We give you a sense of fun. Meaning…something like that. I dunno…Matt…anything?”

“Foggy, I was trying to tell you that she’s a bad influence, but no…all you want to do is have us hang out and be together more. I tried warning you,” he chuckled, lifting his glass and toasting in Foggy’s direction. “But she can be very persuasive.”

“Persuasive?! You two hustled me out of five dollars!”

She set her glass down and clapped Foggy firmly on the shoulder. “It’s alright, Fog,” laughter building in her chest. “I’m buying the next round!” she held the bill between her fingers. She covered her mouth to stifle her laughter as the entire table shook.

“Bunch of sharks,” he grumbled.

 

She tapped her key against the scanner in the elevator and leaned heavily on the stainless steel wall. Her partner in crime leaned against her shoulder, both of their heads lazily rolling backward to rest on the cool metal. “At least,” she hummed to herself, drunk, “he was happier _after_ the drinks.”

“You know, I started my day hungover. You – you’re influencing tomorrow to st–start just the same,” his accusation glancing off.

“Hmm. I guess we sh-shouldn’t drink tomorrow.”

He laughed, “Probably…maybe.”

The elevator doors opened to reveal Josh standing on the opposite side. He immediately honed in on the smell of alcohol and the proximity of Jen to another man. Matt could sense him bristling, but he was drunk and wasn’t picking up on all of the information he should have.

Jen’s mirth suddenly left and she was on edge. “Josh.”

“Lawyer?”

“He is,” she asserted, shoving past and guiding Matt into the hall. “Murdock, go. Here’s the key.”

“Jen, no…he’s angry…”

“It’s not up for discussion,” she shoved him in the direction of the room. “Eight more on the right. Go.” She turned around and faced Josh. “Why does it matter who I spend my time with, Josh? He’s my attorney. And he’s my friend.”

“Unlikely,” he sniggered. He took predatory steps toward her and she backed away cautiously.

She stretched a hand backwards and pressed her fingers into Matt’s back, ushering him on. “Josh, let it go, man. Leave me be.” _Oh my God. He smells more like a distillery than we do. Combined. Jesus Christ. Come to think of it, I didn’t see him at conference today…_

“What’s he got that I don’t have,” Josh slurred. “I can at least see you and appreciate the fine ass that you’ve got.”

Matt’s hand clenched against his cane while his other was bracing against the wall, counting the rooms until they got to hers. _Murdock, get it together. She’s in danger. Drop the act. Oh God…it’s spinning…shit._

“It’s that charm of yours,” she bristled, refusing to let Josh intimidate her. “I can’t stand it.”

“Why not me, Jen? I deserve you,” he snipped. “He won’t give you what I can…what you need.”

“Nah,” her head bowed down but her gaze lingered, eliciting a snarl from Josh. She supposed, in that moment he saw what she was trying to convey: he really wasn’t the predator and if he kept antagonizing, _the wolf_ as Dom called it, would come out. “He’s everything you’re not: Not you. I like his stunning personality. And he’s better looking. …and I know I’m a priority, he just doesn’t say that I am… So, back the fuck off.”

Matt whirled around at the tone she used, honing into the fiber of her being as if he was being struck by lightning. She was calm, her breathing was slow and steady even though her heartrate was elevated and he heard the tape snap on her right pinky, freeing it from it’s bracing finger. He could feel Josh chamber his body and reach out for her, but he used his arm to pull Jen back behind him and was grabbed by her assailant.  
_If you’re going to win, you dumbass, it’s got to be barely. She won’t buy it otherwise._

Josh began punching into Matt’s stomach and side, guests opening their door to see what the commotion in the hall was. Jen looked to an older couple across the hall, “Help! This man’s beating my friend and he’s blind! Call the desk!”

The door shut quickly and Jen ran to intervene, shedding her coat; ripping the two men apart. Josh tried to stand up and reach for her but she was ready and landed a hit to his jaw to send him reeling. She peered over her shoulder to take a look at her partner and noted that Matt’s shirt was ripped and missing a few buttons, his hair disheveled and glasses on the floor, but for the most part, he looked unscathed. “Get up, Murdock. I said get up!”

Jen bent down and picked up his glasses, panting. “Matt, give me your hand,” she commanded in a growl. His left hand extended toward her when he got to his feet, fingers shaking slightly from adrenaline, and felt glass and metal frames pressed into his palm. Her fingers wrapped his around the glasses, then slowly, her eyes not moving from Josh, moved his hand to her shoulder.  
“Stay behind me,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”

“You bitch,” Josh yelled. Matt had gotten in a shot to his face at some point, his lip was split open. “You’re mine!”

“Nope,” she hazarded another smirk. “I belong to no one. No one could tame what’s inside me.”

Matt did his best to keep from emoting, but he was a little proud and turned on by her comment. Despite his efforts, Josh could see that he had complimented Jen’s smirk with the corner of his mouth inching upward.  
_Damn, Jen._

“I’m going to kill you!” Josh’s voice split. “You can’t have her!”

Jen stood straight, shoulders squared, and her right foot dragged backward onto the carpet. Matt felt the muscles in her shoulder through the fabric of her shirt ripple before going taut.  
“Jen, don’t.”

She continued to guide them backwards, stepping cautiously to give Matt a chance to react to what she was doing. Her right arm extended protectively outward as their left sides hugged the wall on their way back to the room.  
“You can try. I’m not scared of you. And I’m not going to let you lay another hand on him.”

Josh wailed like a wounded animal and rushed forward, arms flailing.

_She sighed. She’s ready…she might have even been waiting for this after yesterday…everything in her is like a spring trap ready to snap…I could stop her. Tell her that she promised…dig into that guilt…but…I’m a little intrigued…and drunk. She might haul one off on me if I get in the way at this point. And if I deflect it, she’s going to have questions…and if I let her hit me, she may never bring herself near me again…and I don’t think that I’m ready to not have her in my life. I mean…look at her…_

In a flourish, Jen pivoted on her heel and pushed Matt as far back as she could before launching herself into the air. Her leg swung up in perfect fashion, slicing downward, her heel landing in the crook of Josh’s neck. He cried out when he stumbled and swung at her. She deflected his blow, landed a hit to his chin, and used his continued momentum against him, guiding him toward the floor. When he tripped, Jen leapt atop him and shoved his face into the floor, her knee between his shoulder blades and her hands extended his arms backward.  
“Enough,” she roared. “You’re done! You have no right to me. I don’t want to see you here or at school _ever_ again.” Jen’s naturally lower voice sounded absolutely menacing. “Say it!”

Spectators in the hallway looked on while Josh groaned and did his best to get out of Jen’s hold. “Say it,” a whispered hiss entered his ear. “Or I will dislocate both of your shoulders before I let you get back up.”

Matt rolled over and braced against the wall to stand. “Jen. Let’s go. Come on.” _Security is in the elevator and two are on the stairs._ “He lost. I mean, I can’t exactly see the results…but…well…I’m taking it on faith.”

She inhaled sharply, digging her knee into his back as she shoved off of him, throwing his arms into the ground. Security burst into the hallway and scooped up Josh, taking him downstairs. Some of the staff came up to speak with the guests in the hallway, all vouching that Josh had attacked her blind guest and she had acted in self-defense. Police came by and took statements and after an hour, all were allowed back into their rooms.

 

Once the door had closed, Jen turned on Matt, “Are you hurt? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, are you okay?”

“You look like a mess. Let me see,” she tapped onto his chest. “I’ve had some pretty nasty hits to the ribs and chest before. Let me see what’s going on.” Jen moved about the room gathering supplies.

Knowing that there was no use arguing, he nodded, tossed his glasses onto the coffee table, and began unbuttoning what was left of his shirt. “How bad is it? Is my hair okay?”

“Here,” she handed him a cold water bottle, ignoring his jokes. “Looks like he got a couple shots into your ribs. Hold this here.” The shock of the cold made him jump and hiss. “Wuss. What were you thinking? Huh? I thought we agreed yesterday that I had your back.”

“Yeah, well,” he hesitated. “I said that I had yours, too.”

“Hmm,” she hummed in agreement. “I suppose you did. Doesn’t mean that I wanted to you to get hurt so soon, you know.” She prodded at his ribs, the muscles jumping at her touch. “Don’t think you broke anything. That’s a bonus.”

“Good thing. I’m still a bit drunk…Doesn’t hurt,” he offered, his face trying his best to convince her that he was fine.

She nodded, her hair grazing against his skin. “It’s gonna tomorrow. Sorry.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re not what?” her hands still prodding. “Because you’re definitely going to be sore.”

“Sorry. I’m not sorry,” his breathing hitched as she pressed into a more tender spot on his side.

“You sure about that?” she guided the water bottle to the last spot she’d poked. Jen stood up and walked around him once, her eyes checking for swelling. _But gazing at that torso. Damn. Murdock works out._  
“I’m going to go get you some ice. Don’t get into any fights until I get back,” she teased when she brushed past him.

The law student wrapped his hand firmly around her wrist and held her fast to her spot next to him. “Jennifer MacDougall, stop and listen to me,” his voice low, “I’m fine.” His grip slackened and his hand slid down to find hers, threading his fingers through her own.  
“You, however,” he bobbed his head, “aren’t. Can’t fool the son of a boxer. Come on, let me see.”

Gingerly, he brought her hand closer to his torso and his fingers saw the damage she’d done to an already injured hand. His thumbs kneaded carefully in slow circles as the muscles, bones, and ligaments languidly shifted from the pressure. Jen hissed and turned her face away from him.  
“It’s not that bad,” she lied.

“Oh, sure,” Matt scoffed. “You drank as much as me and I’m bigger than you and you’re wincing as soon as I get,” he applied pressure to the hypothenar muscles under her pinky, “There…you suck in air like it’s going to be your last breath. Where’s the tape?”

“On the table.” His eyebrows lifted in mild annoyance that spurred her to reach and grab the tape for him. “Uh…in my hand?”

“That’s what I thought you said,” he nodded, a sarcastic smirk pulling at his features. He tore off a strip and expertly taped her pinky back to her ring finger, tossing the roll in the direction of the table.  
“You could have gotten hurt,” he lamented, fingers evaluating the work he’d done.

“So could you.” Jen couldn’t accurately tell if it was the alcohol, the fatigue, or even just being in the proximity of him, but she leaned her forehead onto his bare shoulder and closed her eyes. She breathed, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Hmm,” he hummed in agreement. “I was thinking the same thing. I’m glad I’m okay too.”

Jen snorted loudly, her body swaying. “If you hadn’t been tagged in the ribs, I’d have jabbed you myself.”

“I’m sure,” a layer of admiration settled into his voice. “Come on. Let’s get you into bed. You can barely stand.”

“I’m fine,” she assured, her head not moving from his shoulder as they walked. “I’m still only a little drunk.”

“Yeah, I bet. And all that adrenaline and those endorphins in your blood are making it even better.”

“Just a _little_ bit,” she agreed, her voice squeaky for effect. “Tell me you don’t have any of that in you right now.”

“I don’t.”

“Liar.”

“Maybe. _Just a little bit,_ ” he mimicked. She tripped over herself and fell into the bed, which she quickly tried explaining that she meant to do so. “Uh-huh,” his reply flat. “Where are your clothes?”

“On me,” she argued, tapping her leg.

“I meant the ones you sleep in, dumbass.”

She pouted with her eyes shut. “Name calling’s not nice because…it’s…not.”

His hands found her clothes on the dresser and he tossed them at her. “Point taken. Get changed before you start dozing. Don’t think I can save myself from you taking a swing at me if I wake you up.”

He could hear her proud smile in her voice, “I did say,” she hiccupped, “That I was sorry. But I have a problem.”

“I’m sure you do,” he sat on the edge of the bed beside her.

Jen’s laugh sat low in her chest. “I don’t have fingers anymore. And I have boots on. I have to sleep in my boots.”

With an exasperated sigh, Matt bent down and lifted her leg onto his lap, his fingers searching for snaps or a zipper. He found what he was looking for on the inside of her leg below the knee, unzipping the boot and tossing it off to the side. “The other one?”

She endeavored to bring her leg to him, but she proceeded to look like a horse digging at the ground with its hoof instead, causing her to burst out in a fit of laughter. Once Matt was able to coerce her leg to his workstation, he pulled her a bit abruptly causing her to spin on the bed. Inebriated, she found this to be hysterical.

Both feet now free, he prodded at her heel, surprised there wasn’t any swelling from kicking Josh. _Note to self…she might be good with her hands, but if I were a betting man, I’d say that she really got into kickboxing…_  
“Jen, I know you said you didn’t have hands…”

“FINGERS!” she snorted like a pig. Her laughter turned into a fit of giggles that she seemed to be unable to suppress.

“…right. You can get changed now.”

“Now? But you’ll see me.”

“Blind.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s right…but your bat-hearing will see me,” she attempted to whisper. “You know what I’m talking about.”

_You have no idea._ “Do you want me to plug my ears now, too? You’re demanding.”

“No…but I still need help,” she flopped like a fish on the bed. “Jeans buttons are hard.”

“You know, we’re crossing a lot of bridges in our friendship tonight. You sure you want to go over this one, too?”

Jen sighed, her shoulders scuffling against the fabric as she shrugged. “Why not? I trust you.”

_Well, I’m glad someone does…because I don’t know if I trust myself at the moment. I can smell your perfume from this morning and the strawberries on your tongue…and the scotch…I can practically taste it on your lips…_  
“Alright, but if this gets awkward, I’m leaving.”

“Right-o, boy scout,” she saluted into the air.

Matt found the hem at her waist and trailed fingers around until a fold of denim and steel were _visible_ to him. Deftly he undid the clasp and lifted his hands up toward the ceiling. “Like I said.”

“Okay,” she hurled herself upward nearly falling forward onto her face. Matt caught her and did his best to steady her as she changed from her jeans into a pair of shorts. As expected, getting her shirt off was an endeavor because she didn’t seem to grasp the concept of pulling it over her head.

_This is the comedy of errors, isn’t it? Jesus. What a night._  
“Jen, you good?”

“Better,” she sighed, rolling across the bed. “There’s your half.”

“Uh, no. I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

“Hey, Matt?”

“Yes, princess?”

“Ha…ha…you’re a prince. You know, I’ve been messing with you since…like…we got in here, right? I’m not _that_ drunk. I mean, Jesus, I did just do some karate in the hallway a little over an hour ago…and I was just poking around in your gut.”

“Seriously?” he threw his head back and groaned.

“And you were a prince about all of it! What a pal,” she teased. “But, just so you know, if you really just wanted to take your shirt off, you didn’t have to fight Josh to do so.”

“You’re the worst.”

She wagged a finger at him, having hopped out of bed to turn the lights out, “And that’s another lie. I should start keeping score. I should be able to cash them in for every five fibs you tell.”

Matt slid into bed and was relieved at the enveloping feeling the mattress provided. Pleased with the dark, Jen padded back into the bedroom and bounced onto the bed making Matt temporarily airborne.  
“That’s it. Make the blind guy float in the air when the floor’s been moving on him all night…I see how it is.”

“You didn’t tell me that the room was spinning,” she chided. “Since when?”

Matt pondered a moment. “Since we walked out of the bar?”

“That explains a lot. See…my head just feels heavy when I get drunk. And I’m more likely to laugh at _really_ inappropriate comments or jokes…but that’s about it. You kept leaning on me the whole way here. I just thought you were being a flirt.”

Matt argued, “A flirt? Give me a little more credit than that. I mean, I’d at least take you to dinner first.”

She propped her head on her fist, rolling over to face him. “Good to know. I’ll have to be on the lookout for any potential outings to dinner that you initiate. Giving you shit for it could possibly be the highlight of my day.”

“Hmpf,” he snorted. Matt stuffed his hands under the pillow. “So that’s what we’re talking about tonight.”

“What?”

“You having a crush on me, Miss MacDougall.”

“That’s rich,” she rolled her eyes. “Because from what I’ve been told, it’s the other way around.”

“Foggy is full of lies.” He felt a playful smack on his elbow. “It’s true. There’s an ulterior motive with him.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, not entirely full of lies; but full of something,” he chuckled.

“Careful there, Matthew,” she warned. “If you keep lying, I am going to go from kind and creative to devious and imaginative with how I’m going to cash in on your dishonesty.”

“However would I cope?” he yawned.

She followed suit and patted him on the arm, “That’s it.” She paused a beat, closing her eyes. “You asked for it, Matthew… Just as soon as I can open my eyes again…”

Quiet settled over them for a time as their slow, rhythmic breathing evened out.  
“Jen?”

“Hmm?”

“I do…you know…care about you…” his voice trailed off.

“I know.”

“…and not because you’re a starfish.”

She snorted, leaned up on her elbows, and peered down at his face. Even in the dim light, she could make out the lines of his face, the ruffle of his hair, and the way his hooded eyes lazily blinked in a fight against sleep.  
“Well, that’s good. Can’t have a starfish this early in your career, surely?”

“I guess…” he licked his bottom lip. “I’m asking… is…whatever…you know, this is…is it…okay?”

“Yeah,” Jen’s voice a whisper. “I think so. There’s not really anyone else I’d rather stumble around in the dark with.”

Matt groaned and rubbed his face with his hands, “Did you just make a blind joke to a blind guy…in the dark?” Realization hit her hard and she began laughing in a way that caused Matt to smile again. _Something she seems to be good at_. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“It was an accident…but it’s really funny,” she wheezed. His hand playfully shoved in her direction and he rolled onto his side. “Come on, even Freud would be laughing at that!”

“Whatever.”

“I can hear it, you were smiling, too, Matthew. Don’t try to deny it.”

“I won’t; but who’s to say I wasn’t smiling because of something else I heard?”

“Like what,” she croaked, she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.

“Something in your laugh.”

“That’s adorable,” she poked at him. “Foggy was right. You do have a crush on me.”

“Hng…hey, stop with the poking or you’ll be sorry.”

“Ooh, I’m terrified.” Poke. “What are you going to do?” Poke.

Matt wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her close to him, barring his arms across her to prevent her from moving anymore. “There. Now you’re stuck. They used to torment me at the orphanage sometimes, I learned how to get even.”

“Well, well, well,” she chuffed. “Look at you!”

“Can’t really.” Jen burst into another round of laughter, though this time she pleaded for mercy since she had stitches in her side. “That’s what you get. Be nice and go to sleep.”

“I don’t have to listen to you,” she taunted. “You’re the one that wanted to talk.”

“Hmm. Sleep sounds like a good idea, though. I’ve got you when you dream as long as you’re with me.” She yawned and relaxed, but he didn’t let up on restraining her.

“Hey, did you get your LSAT scores back yet? I would think you would have got them by now.”

Impressed that she’d remembered, he nodded. “Yep. Scored a one seventy-eight.”

“See? I told you that you’d do well,” her voice grew soft. “Now what, another three years and then you can try to pass the bar?”

“Yeah, something like that,” he relaxed a little. “Someone’s been doing their research.”

“I tell you about my schooling all the time and you don’t really mention a lot about yours…so…I learned some. You know, you _can_ legitimately tell me all the boring things about school or how it makes you excited. It’s okay, you know. I won’t laugh at you. Often.”

“You’ll have your masters before I finish my tenure at law school,” he pointed out. Her hair was in his face and the perfume from her soap was cascading into his senses. He breathed in deeply and sighed. “I figured you’re busy and didn’t want to bore you.”

She patted his arm around her waist, “Let me decide what bores me. I’ll let you know if I can’t handle it.”  
“Ready for more uncomfortable questions?”

“I thought you were going to sleep,” Matt’s voice cracked in fatigue. “But if you insist.”

“Who was she?”

He stiffened against her back. “Who?”

“Uh-huh. Thought so. The one that’s made you standoffish. Foggy says you don’t date much, not really.”

“Ah. Her.”

She reached up and stretched his arm out under her head so that she could use it as a pillow. “Her. I’m going to guess that she was the first person you were with that you took kind of seriously.”

“Kind of, yeah,” he thought back to the amount of school work he had missed in the whirlwind that had been Elektra and how he loved the thrill of being with her. “She wasn’t the best influence, to be honest. She made me want to skip class and be a delinquent.”

“Mm-hmm,” her voice resonating in her throat. “Tell me about her. Not such a choir boy after all, were you?”

He clicked his tongue off the roof of his mouth in annoyance. “I’d rather not…if it’s all the same.”

“Alright. How about her name?”

Matt lay there, silent, for what seemed like ages. He hadn’t said her name since Roscoe Sweeney was brought before him. If he kept her hidden somewhere in his mind, then maybe the part of him that loved the danger and sin of Elektra would also stay hidden.  
“Elektra,” he choked. “Her…name…is Elektra.”

“Okay. That’s it. We don’t have to talk about her anymore,” she patted his arm around her waist again. “I can tell it’s still painful.”

“What about you” he cleared his throat. “Who was the first person you took seriously?”

“Oh. Well…no one…really,” she paused. “At all.” Her face contorted from pain and memory. “I dated, but nothing really stuck…But no one ever mattered enough…Dom does but…we never dated…seemed weird…I mean, you and whatever this is…right now, here…this is probably as serious of a relationship or friendship I’ve ever had outside of Dom…”

“Really? Why?”

“I don’t know. I could go into the psychology of it all… I guess…he’s…like my brother now more than anything…but…he knows more about me than my brother does…he…uh…doesn’t talk to me much anymore.”

“How come?”

“My mother. I’m not a favorite…effectively disowned, you see… but…he always wanted to please her and she’s kind of turned him against me. Dom’s really the only family I have back in Ohio…his dad…little JJ…” she trailed off.

“When you talk about her,” he breathed, “I can hear how happy she makes you.” Matt pulled her flush against his torso and pressed his forehead into her hair, his arm going from restraining to anchoring her against him.

Jen smiled, shifting comfortably against him. “She’s perfect.”

“Tell me about her.”

“Well, JJ has the most beautiful, blue eyes of a child I’ve ever seen. How she’s Dom’s and Melissa’s I’ll never know…she’s got these chubby little cheeks…and…and I know…that I would die for this small…tiny human…because I will do whatever it takes to protect her and watch her grow up…because I love her and because she’s Dominic’s…” she rambled.

Matt nodded. “You’re going to spoil her rotten.”

She chuckled, “You have no idea.”

“What time do you need to be up tomorrow?”

“I don’t have a session until noon,” she sighed, sleep ebbing into her voice and limbs. “What about you? Have anything you need to study for?”

“It can wait.”

Jen yawned again, the welcome weight of sleep pressing on her mind. “Hmm.”

“I’ll take you to breakfast tomorrow.”

“Then you’re coming with me to dinner.”


	7. Genesis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday, everyone <3

_Saturday_

Matt could feel rays from the sun warming the skin on his back and an easy quietness hung in the air. Jen’s deep and even breathing, the feeling of air passing into her lungs and how it reverberated through her back onto his chest, gave him a sense of serenity. The lids of his eyes still heavy with sleep; he could feel everything in the room, Jen acting like his amplifier.

Her right arm was outstretched against his, her forefinger wrapped absently around his thumb and the fingers of her left hand were threaded through his and tucked under her waist. The rooms around them were already up and mobile, the person next door was brushing his teeth and the guest below them was eating microwaved oatmeal with dehydrated blueberries and sugar from the coffee basket.

The heat was welcome, the muscles in his back stretched languidly as he did his best not to wake Jen. To be blatantly honest, he was feeling a little stiff from having not moved most of the night. The majority of his brain didn’t care: Jen had slept the entire night without stirring from a nightmare for two nights in a row and he felt he could start his day a little brighter than most.

_“Foggy. Foggy. Foggy. Foggy.”_

Jen inhaled sharply, lifting her head to face the living room of the suite. “Morning, sunshine,” Matt teased.

“You should probably get that. It’s light out,” she observed in a squint. “And I need some aspirin.” She groaned and plopped her head back down to its original position.

“To get that, you’ll have to let me go,” he flexed his fingers.

“Right. Sorry,” she untangled herself from him. She thought she had heard a glottal sound of disappointment from him before she stretched out onto her stomach, shoving her arms under a pillow and bringing her head to rest on it.

Murdock peeled himself from the bed and shuffled his way toward the dining room table, aimlessly feeling for his phone. He pressed Foggy’s speed dial number and waited patiently as the other end of the line rang.

“Hey, Foggy. What’s up?”

_“Dude. Where are you? It’s eight thirty. You sound like you just woke up.”_

“I just did, man…I’m going to take her to get some breakfast and then I’ll be back.” Matt opened the bottle of Tylenol she had left on the counter and plopped two capsules in his hand.

Foggy clapped his hands together, _“Buddy, please tell me that you two are a thing now.”_

“Not exactly, man,” he informed. “That asshole from her school attacked us last night when we got off the elevator.”

_“Jesus. Did Mac take care of him?”_

“Yeah,” he snickered, “Sounded impressive. And from what the other hotel guests were saying, she might have dislocated his jaw…the dirtbag.”

_“You alright? I can see you trying to be valiant or something and getting your ass beat.”_

“Guilty.”

_“Aw, buddy,”_ Foggy laughed loudly. _“How bad? You idiot!”_

“She got me out of harm’s way, after I took a bit of a beating. Why didn’t you ask if she’s okay?”

_“Hey, if you would have seen her at that fight Tuesday night, you’d know that unless he got in a lucky shot, she doesn’t need to be worried about. Outside of breakfast, what are you two up to today?”_

Matt stretched backwards to test the tenderness in his side. It didn’t give off as much pain as he had thought it could have and counted it as a blessing. He heard Jen finally roll out of bed and shuffle around in the bathroom. “She’s got a few sessions today, so I figured I’d do some studying before I have to get ready for dinner…”

_“Atta boy, Murdock.”_

“Come on, Fog…alright, alright,” he griped. “Give it a rest. I’ll be back for lunch. Want me to bring anything?”

_“Nah. You kids have fun. I’m actually going out to meet this girl from one of my classes._ ”

“Oh yeah? Which one…don’t tell me! Is it the blonde one from your one civics class?”

_“Her name is Marci, if you must know.”_

“Man, you’re my hero. Go get ‘em, tiger. Let me know if you need anything and I’ll bring it by the dorm.”

Jen appeared, face freshly washed and teeth brushed, with the ripped remains of his shirt in hand. “Here,” she announced as the cloth was placed in his hands. “We’re not going to breakfast with you in that; nor, are we going anywhere with you shirtless. I’ll have to be fighting off every woman in a hundred-foot radius off of you and three very important men in my life keep telling me I have to stop fighting.”

He shrugged on the shirt and did his best to try and button it to no avail. “Why? Is it my wonderful boyish charm?” He opened his palm to reveal the pain killers and she swallowed them quickly.

Jen gave him a once over and looked up skeptically. “Yeah, we can call it that. Hold on,” she disappeared into the bedroom and came back with an oversized hoodie. “It’s big on me, but it should fit you fine for now. And it’s soft. Added bonus. Put it on, hot shot, we’ll swing by your dorm first before we get food.”

He slipped out of his shirt and pulled her hoodie over his head, arms sliding through the sleeves. “What’s on the front?” he queried, hands exploring the fabric. “I can’t tell, really.”

“It’s got a dinosaur on it,” she affirmed as she went back to change. “It’s one of my favorite hoodies ever. Don’t you knock it, Murdock.”

“Not gonna,” he put his hands up. “Nice lady gives me clothes? Pfft. Pretty sure I learned that in Catholic School. Be nice and grateful and all that.”

“How’d you sleep?” she called from the bedroom.

“Fine, how about you?”

She reappeared, changed. “I don’t remember having any nightmares. That’s a bonus.”

“I’d say that my experiment was a success: you had two full nights where you didn’t thrash and lash out. That’s a win for me,” he chuckled.

“You know, I feel like you’ve gotten more smug since I’ve known you. Certainly happier. At least that’s what Foggy seems to think.”

“You shouldn’t listen to everything he says. Are you done or what? I’m starving!”

“Well, you could get your shoes on if you’re so eager to go. Come on.”

 

“So this is the lair of the dynamic duo? I feel like there should be a plaque somewhere commemorating that momentous occasion,” she looked around the flat. She stopped at Matt’s open closet and looked at his clothes hanging neatly with braille tags on them.

Matt had pulled off her hoodie and stood behind her, folding it neatly. “Glorious as it is, yes. This is the place.” She handed him a shirt from the rack, “Thank you. Which one is this?”

“It’s blue.”

“Ah…” he shrugged it on. “I should have been able to tell by the way it felt.” Suddenly, a pair of pants were thrown in his face. “What are these?”

“You slept in the ones on your body. You can change into those. They’re the khaki colored ones. I promise that I’m not going to make you look like a clown, no matter how tempting. Let’s go, man. I’m hungry. Look, I’ll even turn around, if you want.”

“If you say you aren’t going to look, then I believe you.”

“I won’t look,” she challenged. “I’ll look at you in your face.”

“Good,” he challenged back. “I’ll have to take it on faith that you won’t cheat.”

“I promise. I won’t.” Matt began changing in front of her. “So, where are we going to breakfast?”

“There’s a diner not far from campus or there’s a bistro kind of place toward midtown.”

“Which do you prefer?”

“Honestly, I get the same thing at either place. I guess it depends on if you want to walk or take a cab.”

She shrugged and crossed her arms. “I could use a walk, honestly. I mean, I know that I’m going to be walking most of the afternoon, but still.”

“What time do I need to be ready this evening? And what am I supposed to wear?”

Jen’s finger tapped her chin lightly, spinning on her heel to stare back into his closet. “How about I come get you at six thirty? Dinner starts at seven. Now, let’s see what you’ve got in here, Murdock.” She meticulously evaluated every article of clothing on the hangers. “Do you want to go black tie or wear a suit? I mean, if you would be more comfortable in a suit, I’m definitely picking your clothes out.”

Matt stopped a moment, “Are you going to mismatch patterns and colors on me if I say no?”

“Nah. Don’t think I could get away with it,” she retorted. “I think you know your clothes better than I know mine. But I will give you the option of picking what I’m wearing for the evening. I can pick out something complimentary of yours.” He didn’t reply. “Is that weird? I’m starting to think it’s weird.”

“It’s fine, Jen. I can deal with weird. What are my options?”

“Purple or red,” she tossed over her shoulder.

“That’s it? That’s all I get? No deep discussions over lilac versus amethyst or red versus coral?”

“Nope.”

“Wow,” he whistled. “So mysterious.” She began tapping her fingers against her left leg. “Purple.”

She shuffled through his closet and withdrew a charcoal suit and light gray shirt. “I’ll get you a tie while I’m out. This’ll work, though. I’ll hang it up on the door.”

“You’re going to buy me a tie?”

“Consider it a late birthday present.”

He hoisted his pants to his waist. “Now, in honesty, did you cheat?”

“Nope,” she smirked. “Not even a little bit. I said that I wouldn’t…So, if you’re ready for a walk…breakfast?”

“Breakfast.”

 

“So she didn’t give you any indication of what she’s wearing tonight?”

Matt turned the page of his textbook and continued to read, his fingers scanning over the text quickly. “No, she just let me pick out the color. That’s it.”

“And with everything that I’ve told you this week about the way she looks…you went with purple…shoulda chose red.”

“Fog, it’s not like I’m going to see it, man,” he snorted. His fingers skimmed over the introductory lessons on civil procedure and he made a mental note that he’d have to go over this more thoroughly later considering that semester was still rather hazy. _Elektra._

“Yeah, but you’re going to be on the arm of potentially the smartest woman in the room and you, my good man, are the eye candy she’s showing off,” Foggy argued. “Do you even know what she picked out for you to wear? I have _never_ seen you in that suit at any of our events for school.”

“So then it’s the charcoal one,” he leaned back in his chair, hands folded on his midsection. “I had a feeling. Wait…eye candy?”

“Yeah, man. You’re stepping into her arena…you’re the small fish in her ocean full of sharks and she’s the only defense you’ve got.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with eye candy.”

“Oh. Well, I mean she chose you over me. So obviously she’s going for eye candy over depth of character,” he teased.

“Ughh,” Matt threw his head back. “Two points to you.”

“Thank you, thank you; I’ll be here all night. Literally.”

“Don’t be mad, man; next time I’ll take you to a party!”

“Such sweet nothings you promise me, Murdock. You’re going to need to get ready soon…you said six thirty, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

Foggy leaned back to get a clear view of the clock. “It’s nearly six.”

“Time flies when you have fun…or going over everything that you learned for the past four years to prep for next year…” he grumbled.

“But hey, we’re going to law school together! That’s something.”

“I’m not going to kiss you, man.”

“You sure? I mean…we’re practically dating.”

“Oh, now that’s a rumor that could start spreading,” Matt prodded, jovial.

“You know what, Matt,” Foggy threw a pillow at his head which bounced wonderfully off its target to the floor, “Get your ass dressed. You’re Mac’s problem tonight.”

 

Foggy stood outside with Matt while they waited for Jen to show. “She’s late,” Foggy announced for the third time in a row. “She’s never late. Is she late? I don’t even know.”

“We-we’ve still got time before we need to be worried, Fog. She’s two minutes late. You’ve lived here all your life and know the traffic patterns. She doesn’t. Cut her some slack.” A black town car pulled up to the curb. Matt took a _peek_ inside and heard a steady heartbeat and was able to faintly smell spiced vanilla.  
“Bet this is her now.”

The door opened and Jen gracefully stepped out onto the sidewalk. “Buddy, I’m going to do you this favor…just this once…and I’m going to try and explain to you the creature I see getting out of this car,” Foggy breathed.

“What do you mean,” Matt inclined his head towards Foggy’s.

“She looks like a goddess, Matt. How do you always know? It’s not even fair.”  
“Alright…so the dress is dark purple…like…I don’t know…eggplant or something…and it’s all ripple-y and crisscrosses from her waist to her shoulders…and she’s got these capped sleeve things …Jesus…that are purple and silver. Her hair’s all wavy and she’s got makeup on…I mean…wow…”

Jen took a few steps toward the boys and produced a tie in her hand. “Here you are, Murdock,” she placed it in his expectant fingers. “It’s black, for the most part, but it has threads of dark purple in it that cross it in a pattern.”

His thumb ran over the fabric and he nodded. “I can feel the cross threads…thank you.”

“Foggy,” she nodded with a knowing smirk. “You can close your mouth now. It’s just a dress.”

“But…Mac!”

She gave him a playful side-eye as she made quick work of Matt’s tie. “Now, now, Mr. Nelson; that’s enough out of you.”

“Matt. I swear to God. You better treat her like a queen tonight, you lucky bastard.”

Jen laughed after finishing the knot and straightening out the tie, “He will or I’m shipping him back to you.”

“Well, Miss MacDougall, shall we?”

“Yes, I think so. To dinner!” she offered her arm to Matt.

As the pair walked to the car, Foggy shouted, “I want him home by nine tomorrow morning, young lady!”

Jen snorted and a genuine smile spread on her face, “You got it. By nine. Scout’s honor.”

Once situated inside, Jen shut the door behind them and informed the driver they were ready to go to their venue for the evening.

_If Foggy’s practically bumbling over himself, then this has got to be some dress. I can hear a necklace…links, I think. Something simple. She has something in her hair…I’m guessing its helping with the waves he mentioned._  
“Do I get to know what you look like or is that a secret?”

“It’s a purple dress…and I have a silver clutch purse in my lap at the moment,” she gazed down at herself. “My shoes are black…and I have a silver necklace.”

“You know,” he smiled, the creases in his eyes forming, “You talk about what you wear like a man does. Simplified. You do remember I wasn’t born blind, right?”

“Yeah, I remember,” she nodded. “I don’t know. It’s a purple evening gown.”

“Oh, now that’s something new,” he elbowed her arm. “Also,” he pointed to the ceiling, “A town car?”

“It’s supposed to give you a taste of the potential perks of the career, or something. I don’t know. Make you want this life, I guess.”

“Do you?”

“I want to work,” she replied in earnest with a sigh. “All of this…it’s a grand bonus that’s not necessary to me.”

“What _do_ you want out of life? That’s not something we’ve ever discussed, really,” a muscle in his jaw jumped.

Jen pivoted on her spot to face him. “Before your glorious pep talk the other night, not a lot, to be honest. Waking up and going through the motions seemed to be all that I was good at.”  
“But after, I don’t know. I want something more. Something that grounds me to the earth that I walk on, you know? I want to do more…be more…I want to be whatever it is that you see in me and if I can get remotely close to whatever that is…then…” her voice grew thin.

“Then what,” he gently coaxed.

She stared down to her hands, her fingers wringing together. “…then maybe I’m not such a waste and I’m worth something.”

Matt reached over and placed his hand atop both of hers. “Not sure where this layer of doubt’s coming from…but you’ll get through it. And – and if you need help, then you’ve got me, too. Is it the dinner?”

“Probably,” she countered. “I have to give a speech that I wrote at the a few days back at conference. And I’m really not in the mood…plus my mother called to lovingly put me in my place about where my life is headed after I ate lunch.”

“I know I’m not one to give advice about parents, but…Jen…stop putting yourself through that anxiety every time she calls. She’ll either get with the program…or screw her. She’s blind to how wonderful of a human being you are. And…that should say a lot coming from a blind man,” he countered.

“And still with the jokes,” she chortled. “Oh! By the way,” she reached down to the floor and produced a paper bag with tissue paper jutting from the top. “I got you a legitimate present while I was out.”

“Why?”

“For real, belated, birthday present. Go ahead. Open it.”

He could sense vibrations coming from the bag inside a box and a faint electrical current. His hands carefully parted the tissue paper to retrieve a leather wrapped, hinged box from inside. “Jen, you didn’t have to get me anything. I mean, I didn’t get you anything on your birthday.”

“That’s not the point,” her voice flat. “I’ve thought about getting you this for a while and made a stop while I was out today...I felt it was destiny considering something we talked about earlier…”

He tilted the lid backwards and his fingers immediately identified what was in the box: a watch. _It has ridges where the hours sit on the outer ring…and a secondary ring underneath…that must be the minute hand._

“It’s got a removable glass piece if you want to feel the hour and minute hands, or it’s got moving pieces that you can use to tell the hour and minute. I figured that, since you’re going into law school and you _should_ be hitting the books more than you did in undergrad, you’ll need to know what time it is so that you make it to class on time.”

Murdock blinked a few times and his head titled lightly to the side, processing what she had said.

She continued, “You believe that I can make something of myself. So, Matthew Michael Murdock…I believe I want you to make something of yourself, too. And you can start by making sure you don’t skip class from now on.”

“Jen?”

“Hmm?”

He cleared his throat, “This is…uh…I just…” _Spit it out, dumbass._ “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I already set the time for you, so it shouldn’t need adjusted until the battery starts to go.”

“Would you?” he offered her the box and motioned to his wrist. She made a glottal sound of acknowledgement and began to put the timepiece on his wrist.

The car came to a steady halt and the driver stepped out and around the car to open the door, extending a hand to Jen in aid. She slid out and grabbed Matt’s cane, extending her hand back into the car. “Take my hand. I’ve got you.”

“Hmm.” _I know you do._   
He reached for her palm and let her guide him out of the car, taking his cane from her as they set foot into The Carlyle hotel. Matt’s hand was wrapped around her arm while she guided them through to the restaurant for dinner, where she handed over her invitation to the _maître d'_ from her clutch.  
They were shown to their table where, to Jen’s relief, Rachel was waiting with her plus one and Mr. Duquesne.

“Miss MacDougall,” the older man stood up. “It is a pleasure to see you again. And if I may, you look absolutely radiant this evening. To be bold, it’s not often that a genuine prospect is capable of wielding intelligence, strength and beauty so well at your age.”

“Thank you, sir,” her head bowed in a tactful nod. “It’s a privilege to have been asked to come to this event this evening. May I introduce you to my date this evening? Mr. Duquesne; Matthew Murdock.”

“Good evening,” Matt extended his hand outward, a warm hand clasping around it and giving a firm shake.  
He leaned into Jen ear and smugly whispered, “Date?”

“To your ten,” she whispered, ignoring his comment before speaking louder, “From school, Rachel Williams and her plus one for the evening, Paul Casciolli.”

Matt took time to shake both of their hands firmly before Jen guided his hand to the chair back. He pulled her chair out for her and motioned for her to sit before he took his seat to her right.  
Rachel, Paul, and Duquesne sat contentedly in the brown, v-shaped booth, Matt and Jen sitting in elegant leather studded dinner chairs.

“This place is gorgeous,” she whispered in his ear.

“I can see it if you tell me about it,” his head flicked in her direction.

“So, directly behind Rachel, on the back of the booth seating…there’s a floral arrangement. Can you smell it?”

“Yes, lilies predominantly, think.”

“It’s greenery with cream flowers. Very in fashion for the moment…and it’s got to be at least six feet taller than the booth back. So I’m guessing fifteen-foot ceilings…There’s yellow, marble, square columns in the walls…and the entryways have white and black marble bracing them. I think some of the walls are dark red, but the light’s playing with my eyes. There’s a lot of candles everywhere, so the room looks like it’s made of gold.”

Listening to her describe the room to him in such detail made it easier for him to map it and paint a picture in his mind. She was oddly specific and accurate with her descriptions and briefly, he swore that he forgot that he was blind.

“In an effort for small talk,” Mr. Duquesne interjected as Jen was finishing, “I don’t recall seeing you, Matthew, at the conference. Are you in attendance?”

“No, sir,” Matt tilted his head to the side. “I’m not one for the world of business, per se.”

“Ah, that’s alright,” Duquesne smiled warmly at the rest of the table. “It’s not for everyone…at least not at this level. So, did you come with Jennifer from school?”

Jen sat upright and leaned forward on the table slightly, asserting herself physically into the conversation. “We actually met in New York when I came for last year’s session. He’s a New Yorker.”

“Wonderful! I’m a Chicago man myself,” he chimed, clasping his hands together. Rachel and Paul began talking quietly to themselves. “So, what do you do, Mr. Murdock?”

“I’m a student at Columbia. I’m finishing my senior semester this May,” he informed with a polite smile. “I begin law school next year.”

“Columbia Law? Well, well. That’s a feat in itself. Congratulations to you; I wish you the best in your endeavors,” he lifted his glass in Matt’s direction.

“He’s raising his glass to you,” Jen informed. Matt bowed his head and murmured a word of thanks.

“Matt?” Rachel leaned forward, “I’ll have you know that you were the topic of discussion today at conference.”

“Me? I’m no one in comparison,” he gestured to the table. “I find it difficult to imagine why I would be the subject of conversation.”

Jen lifted her eyes to meet Rachel’s in a casual warning, the wine already pulling at Rachel’s normally solid decorum. “Well,” Rachel swallowed, decidedly changing the subject, “The other students from school overheard that Jen had been arguing with a lawyer about morality and was able to win her argument.”

“Ah, yes,” Matt nodded. “She did. And I am willing to say that I was the _lawyer_ she was arguing with. As a future law student, I can honestly say that it’s a shame she didn’t stick with law. She’d make a fine attorney.” He picked up Jennifer’s spike in adrenaline when Rachel had mentioned him and knew she was worried Rachel would talk about the incident with Josh in the hotel. He had heard the other students talking about it and how their professor had shipped him home early with a citation to see the provost.

“Your loss is our gain,” Duquesne grinned. “Did she tell you that she’s lined up for employment already?”

“Yes, she did,” Matt leaned backward, taking a sip of his water. “I hear that you are the man that has scooped her talents up already. That’s quite a feat. Jen doesn’t work for just anyone.” He felt the temperature around her face increase. _She’s blushing. Oh good, let’s continue that as payback._ “You must be one hell of a good man for her to take that opportunity without question.”

Duquesne sat quietly for a moment and digested the information he was given. “Well, thank you, young man. That says quite a lot. About you both.”

Matt began talking politely with Paul and Rachel to give Jen and Duquesne a minute to speak. Duquesne leaned over to her, “Very smart choice of date this evening, Jennifer.”

“He’s one of my best friends,” she informed. “I support him as best I can for his ambitions. He does the same in kind.”

“Good. Having people like that in your life in this line of work is important. I must say, if you keep impressing me like this over the next two years, I’m going to have to up your salary. Good on you.”

_One of her best friends? Score._

Their waiter appeared and informed them of the menu for the evening and rattled off a wine list. Rachel asked if it were possible to have liquor with dinner instead.

“Not usually, ma’am, but tonight is an exception considering that the organization hosting this party has booked both the restaurant and the café this evening.”

Paul ordered Jack Daniels, Rachel a tequila that Jen hadn’t heard of, Duquesne ordered a whiskey; Matt ordered his Macallan, neat. “Ron Diplomático…neat if you have it, otherwise El Dorado Fifteen-Year neat, thank you.”

“That’s some top-shelf stuff,” Paul admired. “You know what’s up.”

Jen’s forearms rested on the edge of the table enabling her to square her shoulders off a little. “It’s my business to know.”

“Are you ordering because you don’t have to foot the bill,” he challenged a little louder than she would have liked. “That’s a two hundred seventy dollar bottle of rum.”

The energy radiating through her body was suddenly surging. Matt turned his head in her direction. _Get him, Jen._

“No,” her head high and eyes boring into Paul’s. “If you feel that’s the case, then perhaps you wouldn’t mind paying for your own drink this evening. I know I have the money in the bank for what Matt and I are having here tonight.” She snorted in annoyance and continued, “I know I have the money in the bank to pay for this entire table tonight. I don’t go anywhere without considering that. That’s just smart business.”  
“Tell me, Paul, can you honestly say that you would do the same?” She felt Rachel and Duquesne’s eyes bouncing between the pair of them. She didn’t have to look, but she knew Matt had his customary smug grin plastered on his face.

“I mean, that’s not what I was trying to say…”

“Good,” she tutted. “I would work on thinking before you speak…it could help you from sinking your career so early. It’d be a shame considering that mommy and daddy are paying for your schooling.”  
“If you’re going to fire any shots, be prepared for return fire or you’re going to hit yourself in the face from your own recoil.”

Rachel laughed loudly and smacked Paul on the back of the shoulder. “That’s what you get! You never beat her in debate at school either!”

“Hey, that was different!” Paul whined.

“Stop whining, Paul,” she sipped from her newly acquired drink. _Oh yes….the Diplomático…that finish, though._ Jen nodded in appreciation and swirled the rum in its glass. “It’s not becoming to future employers or clients.”

Duquesne chuckled quietly to himself and pointed a finger in Jen’s direction. “That, right there, is a key reason to why I honed in on you last year, Jennifer. That brain of yours is constantly firing on all cylinders. Magnificent! And sharp-tongued, too! That’s fantastic. I cannot wait for you to join the ranks of my company. You can climb as high as you want!”

In an effort to be a smartass, Jen turned to Duquesne and retorted boldly, “Even if it means _your_ job, sir?”

Matt’s eyebrows shot upward underneath his hair. _Jesus. Listen to her. And nothing’s changed internally either. Damn. She’s good._

Duquesne pulled his head back, the corners of his mouth turned down to express his delightful challenge. “If it means you’re taking over because I’m no longer the best fit for my company? Absolutely. Without question.”

Jen nodded again. “Good to know,” her hair bouncing against her shoulders. “It’s not the plan at the moment,” she conceded. “But testing the waters is always good, don’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” Duquesne’s voice grew more broad. “I’m just glad I was able to sign you before anyone else could. There were a handful of Fortune 500 companies looking at you.”  
“Why did you agree to sign with me, out of curiosity?”

“Like Matt said,” she leaned against his arm. “You’re one hell of a good man, sir. I’ve done my homework. And I don’t just work for anyone.”  
“I’ve looked into your business model, the morals and ethics you use to run your company and all of that. You utilize sound business practices that are ethically fair to all parties, most importantly to your employees. No deal you have ever taken has jeopardized the livelihoods of your people and repeatedly, you have taken pay cuts to ensure that your staff receive the bonuses that they deserve.”  
“And, up until recently…I didn’t know that was what I wanted: selfishly to work for a company that benefits from its workers as it benefits from what I put into it. A place that will help me to do good and be good in kind. Someone helped me see that…helped me realize what I wanted from my career…and for me.”  
“So yes, Mr. Duquesne, I selfishly took your offer because I knew it would be a sound investment on who I am fundamentally down to my soul. But only because I know that our ideals are so aligned that I feel I could wake up twenty years from now, still working for your company, and be glad that I’m going to work.”

Now it was Matt’s turn to go red in the face. She looked quickly in his direction and was proud of the handiwork she’d left on his face.

“I like him,” he pointed to Matt. “Keep him around so that he can give you compliments to pass my way.”

“I can make no promises.”

The first course of dinner was set in front of them and the table quickly devoured their meal. Casual dinner conversation passed amicably between all of them, other guests would come up to the table and introduce themselves to Jen or Duquesne; her future boss would lean in and whisper inside information and gossip about the people in the room.  
The dinner course was a beautiful fillet with a rich peppercorn sauce, potato pave, and charred asparagus. Throughout dinner, the pair had inched closer together, closing the distance between their chairs.

“When do you have to give your speech?” Matt’s voice low enough that only she could hear.

“Soon. At least I get to read it if I get lost,” she sighed. “It’s kind of stupid. And doesn’t really have anything in it that these bigwigs are going to go for. Most of these people are in business of making money for the sake of money. Men like Duquesne? Few and far between.”

Matt shrugged, “So what? Talk to them, then. If that’s who it’s geared for, then make sure that they can hear you loud and clear, and demand that everyone else listen to you.”  
“You’ve got this.”

“Thanks,” she squeezed his arm. “Dinner alright?”

“Yeah, absolutely. I like the simpler stuff…but I gotta say, I’m more than willing to go with you to the next dinner party you have if I have a steak like this again,” he grinned. She gave a stiff smile. “Hey…you’re gonna be fine. I’ve got you. I’ll be right here…and you can bet your ass that I’ll be listening.”

“Okay,” she puffed air through her cheeks. “I got this. Yeah. Sure. Only the most powerful men and women in business in the U.S. are in the room. What could go wrong?” She stood up to take leave.

Matt grabbed her hand and motioned for her to bend down. “You’re one of those women in this room. Now go to work, Miss MacDougall.”

Air passed through her nostrils in a huff and she strode off in search of the people she was supposed to meet before the speech. Her heart was still beating quickly, but Matt thought that it was thundering in her chest with resolve rather than fear.

Rachel leaned over the table and whispered, “You’re good for her, Murdock.”

He chuckled, “That’s what my roommate keeps telling me.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a tenor voice interrupted the dinner service. “My name is Andrew Coleman and I am the president residing over the conference that we’ve been attending this week. As is customary, we finish the week here at the Carlyle, celebrating the best and brightest, both coming into the world of business and those that push their industries forward. Tonight, our two guest speakers will delight you.  
“First is Mr. William Tobias: President, Founder, and CEO of Morgana.”

The elderly man spoke about the future being now, jokes about dividends, and a bunch of jargon that Matt really had no interest in and he did his best to pay attention. However, Jen was biting the inside of her lip and grinding her teeth, rolling her neck side to side in agitation.  
He knew she could see him. She would stop when she caught sight of him, but when her view was blocked, she would go back to fretting.  
When he felt that he had her gaze, he smiled and breathed deeply for her as a reminder, giving her a thumbs up.

“And now, for the student-submitted speech, we have selected Miss Jen MacDougall.”  
The announcer gave a lengthy biography about where she went to school, her awards and accolades, and informed the crowd that she was planning on graduating a year early with the intent to enroll in the University of Chicago’s School of Business for her M.B.A.

Jen stepped up to the small podium, glanced at Matt who mouthed _I’ve got you_ , and took a deep breath.  
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she paused a beat. “I could stand here and tell you all of the things you want to hear from someone my age, coming into the multifaceted world of business so young…or I could stand here and tell you that, as a woman, I plan to change how the wheel turns…but that’s not what I’m here to do.”  
Matt smiled, the creases at his eyes just barely visible past his glasses. Jen sighed again, clicked her papers into a neat stack and turned her speech over.  
“Some of us in this room got into business early because it was easy or someone in the family was doing it and we’ve grown our business into a corporation. Others fought tooth and nail to be sitting here, having to learn perhaps faster than others the ins and outs of what being in business really means.” The crowd gave a murmured chuckle.  
“My point is, that here in this room, here at this convention, we are all in attendance with a common motivator in mind: work. Now, outside of some of my music major friends going to that major conference in Chicago in December, I doubt there’s as big a conference like this anywhere else in the country. And perhaps with good reason.”  
“You see, if we are all here, together, perhaps those odd or new perspectives can awaken something in our senses that allow us to experience everything new. How many of us can remember the first transaction we ever facilitated and knowing, down to the fiber of your being, that this is _something_?”  
“How many of us in this room were repeatedly knocked down and told _no_ or _you can’t_ …but we did anyway? How many of us have gone without sleep, burning the midnight oil, over a deal or…possibly…a low financial quarter?”  
“Now, I ask you, how many of you were knocked down when you were young? Maybe at school. Maybe at the playground…I was. As a kid, success to me was getting back up, patting the dirt out of the knees of my jeans as I kept trying to climb the tree in my school’s playground. Success was being able to tell my mother that I was never going to be a gymnast…rather…I brought home a medal from beating a thirty-year-old red belt when I was thirteen. Success was getting into college on my own and being able to pay for it out of my own pocket because I had no financial support. Success is having a small group of people that I can count on, without question.”

She paused and allowed the polite laughter and murmuring to subside. “To each one of us, at that age, success was different. We had to define success for ourselves. How best do we go about making the most of every time we stand back up? Where does that motivation come from?”  
“Is it who we are fundamentally, like our conscience, that tells us that we aren’t done yet because we have work to do; is it about what we are able to shoulder, like Atlas, and keep moving forward?”  
“Is it about being good at what we do?” she peered around the room at her audience, sure of herself. “Because if that’s the case, I can tell you that I’m good at sarcastic comments, making a fine painkiller, and fighting…both physically and for what I believe in.” There was more laughter and she chuckled.  
“So what is success? How do we get to be in this room? It can’t all be numbers. There would be a line of accountants out that door vying to get a table.” The room laughed a little louder. “It can’t be dividends, because there would be more bankers here.”  
“So what is it? What motivates us to be here?  …what motivates me to be here and successful?”  
“Ladies and gentlemen, you can listen to the sound of my voice and it may sound droll to you considering the food in your bellies and the cocktails sitting in your hands came before I gave this speech…but this world isn’t perfect and there is quite a bit wrong with it. But I like to think, that one step at a time, we…not even the we limited to this room…but we can make a difference. We can do something that matters…even if its just for one person. One client. One employee…”

Jen placed her hands on either side of the podium and leaned forward. “I am prepared to do something that matters. I am ready to help. I am ready to start telling my mentees that _they could_ rather than _they can’t_.”  
“Each one of us has an idea…a dream…a vision…and sometimes, along the way…it might change and evolve and that’s okay. Each failure is a chance to dust ourselves off and push forward. Always. Keep getting up no matter how difficult or hard it gets. Make the difference…no matter how small. That’s what success could be. Maybe it should be.”  
“Perhaps, I’m too much of a dreamer in that regard. But I think that will be my measure of success, should I be standing here before you in twenty years: I would like to have succeeded in making a difference, even if it was just for one person. To that person, that is the world and I stand before you, ready to change worlds for the better. I challenge you to do the same.”

Thunderous applause took over the room as Jen took a step back from the podium and bowed, beaming. After a few polite waves, Jen stepped down from the small podium and shook the hands of the board of directors. She was presented with an award made from glass and had a photo taken before she was permitted to go back to her seat.

When Jen stepped back onto the floor to walk to her seat, the guests stood up and applauded again, many nodding and murmuring about the way she captivated her audience. The noise was thunder to Matt, but he did his best to grin and bear it knowing that she was on her way back. He applauded with a knowing smile with the rest of their table when she approached her chair.

“I’d hug you,” Matt offered, “But this is about you. I’m not going to detract from your light. I’m proud of you.” The applause died down and dessert was beginning to make its way around to the guests. He was surprised when Jen wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into an embrace. His arms encircled her torso and he gave a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For more than you realize.”

They parted and he held out her chair for her again to take her seat before taking his own. A ceramic dish was placed in front of him and he could smell the berries on top, but the mix of smells from around the room was beginning to get overwhelming. Jen noticed. _Of course she did_.

“It’s a crème brûlée,” she offered with a hand on his arm. “There’s blackberries and raspberries on it.”

“Ah,” he nodded knowingly. “That’s what I smelled.”

“Are you okay?” her eyes doing their best to analyze his face. “Be honest.”

“It’s just a lot at the moment, I’ll be okay. Promise.” He adjusted his tie back to his sternum. “Don’t worry.”

“Hmm. Telling me not to worry will usually cause the opposite to happen.”

“I said I would go on a date with you tonight, that’s what I’m doing. Tonight’s about you.”

“A date?” she smirked. Matt tossed his head back, eliciting deep laughter from Jen. “I knew it, Murdock! You wanted to be my date.”

“Shh,” he teased. “You’re in public in front of your future boss. Stop laughing at a disabled man. It’s…just…rude.”

As if on cue, “Jennifer, are you laughing at this good man that you brought with you to dinner?”

Jen lazily pivoted her head in Mr. Duquesne’s direction and smirked. “Yes, sir, I am. Because he deserves it and picks on me relentlessly.”

“Good,” he laughed, shaking the entire table. “It’ll keep you both humble.”

Jen took a drink of her rum and Matt found himself wondering what exactly her lips tasted like with the rum and vanilla crème having passed by in quick succession. She was enjoying herself and was in an element he hadn’t really experienced much of. He counted himself lucky to be able to see this side of her…to see what she was professionally good at. And she could certainly command a crowd.

The board of directors announced that cocktails would be served in Café Carlyle for the rest of the evening if guests wished to continue their libations. Jen leaned into his ear, “Up to you, hot shot. If you want to stay, we can. If you want to go, we can do that, too. Whatever you want to do.”

“Seriously? That’s dangerous.”

“I mean…don’t be fooled by these heels I’m wearing. I could still beat someone up if they tried to pick a fight and you got in the middle of it. Just…don’t do that. I’m _really_ enjoying the rum I’ve got in my hand,” she warned.

“We can stay, that’s fine. But I do want to ask you something before we make our way over.”

“Sure. Come on. Rachel, would you save us seats? Mr. Duquesne,” she raised her voice to get his attention. “Should we save you a seat, sir?”

“No, no,” he chortled. “I’m getting to old to keep up with you younger kids. You have fun and enjoy the live music. It’s cabaret style. With what I’ve heard about your musical exploits, you’ll love it. Have a good night.”

Murdock and MacDougall made their way through a few hallways, detouring away from people so that she could hear herself think. She could only imagine how overly stimulated he was; she felt nauseous about it at times in the restaurant.

“Alright, Mr. Murdock. Now that it’s quieter, fire away. What’s on your mind?”

“I’m going to ask if I can do something impulsive and not have you hate me.”

“Impulsive?” she frowned in thought, standing before him. “What kind of impulsive are we talking about?”

“Impulsive as in it could get me into trouble,” he laughed nervously, leaning against the wall and running a hand through his hair.

“Huh. And you’re asking for permission…from me? To do something impulsive?” He may not have realized, but she was able to see, plain as day on his face, what he was thinking about doing.

“Well. Yes…but I don’t want to…” _Oh. Now that’s nice._ Jen had silenced him with a kiss, her hand holding his face. If he wasn’t warm from the scotch, his blood was most certainly on fire now.

“That kind of impulsive?” she pulled away a little breathless.

He sighed, “Yeah, that kind.” _She tastes like rum and vanilla, sugar…Jesus. I could get drunk off of her._

“Hmm,” she smirked. “I think I can manage that kind of impulsive for now. But you better watch yourself, Murdock. I’ve got my eye on you.”

“I’d hope so. One of us should see what’s going on in this place. Ready to go back?”

“Not quite.”

“No?” he sniggered. “Why not? This is your party.”

She inhaled sharply, “Yeah, but present company is vehemently better than any of the company in that room.”

“Conveniently for you, present company is accompanying you into that room.”

“You are an utter ass sometimes.”

“Yes, comes with the territory of being a lawyer, I’m afraid. You can file a complaint with Nelson and Murdock.”

“Oh really,” her voice low. “And how long is that going to take?”

Matt snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him, his eyes travelling upward in thought. “Well, three years to get through law school…”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then we have to pass the bar,” his face scrunched up in faux-apprehension. “Get an office…have a few clients…and then you can file your complaint.”

“Oh good. A waiting period. Story of my life,” she joked.

He took off his glasses, using the same hand to pull her face closer to his and kissed her back, pleasantly lost in everything that she was. Murdock felt alive and hazy; calm and empowered all at the same time. She was intoxicating in the best ways possible. When they parted, she rested her forehead against his and he snorted.

“What?”

“So that’s what this dress looks like.”

“Jesus,” she laughed, stepping backwards. “You need to stop making me laugh so much. This is your fault.”

“Me?”

“Yep,” she nodded, his hand wrapping around her arm so that they could return to the party. “I’m a grouch. And then you show up in my life and it’s all smiles and laughing. All the time. My sides actually hurt! I think I’m dying.”

He rolled his eyes, “You’re fine.” He replaced his glasses on his face and ran a hand through his hair again. “Foggy says you’re an epidemic: I’m apparently far too happy.”

“Yeah, you should definitely stop that,” she pouted. “It makes your face look like you’re special.”

“Special or _special_?”

She scrunched her nose, “Both.”

“Ouch. There it is. The backhand. I have come to expect it…nice on the front and a sting on the end.”

“It’s what I’m good at,” she offered. She peered over at him and sniffed loudly. “You’re lucky. Not even a blotch of lipstick on you.”

“I was careful.”

“Sure you were, hot shot.”

“I’d like to remind you, Miss MacDougall, you kissed me first and present that into evidence.”

She dropped her arm, “I thought that you were humoring me tonight? Didn’t you say…and quote: ‘ _But this is about you. I’m not going to detract from your light’_? Hmm? What about that evidence?”

He licked his lips and leaned backward, “I took you to a more secluded portion of the hotel to ask.”

“Riiight,” she taunted. “Murdock, you’ve really got to work on that if you’re going to make it as a lawyer.”

“What?” he pulled his shoulders up. “I have _no idea_ as to what you’re talking about.”

“That’s it then,” her idea overtaking her features. Her gaze became devious. “Every lie you tell me…is one less thing you get from me.”

“Like what?”

“That’s up to us and whatever this is,” her finger tapped back and forth on their torsos.

“You’re too clever for your own good…or mine.”

“So I’ve been told,” he wrapped his hand around hers as they began navigating the crowd to their seats. “Come on. I need a drink.”

“Why? Was I that bad?” his tone baiting her.

“No, quite the opposite. Shut up.”


	8. Waist Deep

_Sunday_

It was three in the morning by the time that they got back to Jen’s hotel. She’d already called Foggy around eleven to let him know that their group had intended on closing down the cabaret. Matt had taken her phone to speak with him at one point explaining she’d been drinking enough to make him proud and that she probably wasn’t going to get him home by nine.

 _“Buddy. It was a joke. You only see each other a week a year. Go do something tomorrow. I don’t know. Go walk the park or … something. Just enjoy the time you’ve got. Now…you sound like you did yesterday…how much have_ you _been drinking?”_

“Jen’s been able to get Macallan, so…a bit.”

_“No fighting tonight, Matt. If she’s three sheets to the wind with you not far behind, it’ll be up to me to defend your honor and we both know that you don’t want that.”_

“Thanks, man. Love you, too. G’night!”

Jen kicked her shoes off across the room to where Matt wasn’t prone to walking about and enjoyed having her feet flat on the carpet instead of in heels. She set her award on the dining room table with her clutch and jewelry. He tossed his jacket over the arm of the couch and rolled his sleeves toward his elbows, carefully placing his shoes near the door. Matt leaned casually back onto the door, a smile on his face.

“Oh no,” she wagged a finger at him, her tone abrupt. “Don’t you smile at me, Matthew. Not when you look like _that_.”

“Like what?” he didn’t move from his spot, but took his glasses off his face and set them on the side table.

“Like…like the good looking man that you are and that smile of yours…it’s infectious. So…stop it.”

“Oh,” he pouted, crossing his arms against his chest. “I’m good looking now? That’s a step up from being a tool.”

“You stop that, too” she pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Whatever charm thing that you’re doing right now, you better stow that, too. It works.”

“I’m just standing here minding my own business,” he attempted to look innocent. “I’ve not said or done anything to you since we left. I’ve been a gentleman.” The hem of Jen’s dress whispered across the floor as she walked around the room making it easy for Murdock to track her.

“Is that so,” she peered over her shoulder. “A gentleman? I wonder if Foggy would call your hand placement while we were dancing gentlemanly.”

“Well, no. But that was before we left; and I didn’t hear you complaining at the time.” Jen had walked over and placed a glass of water in his hands. “Thank you,” his voice heavy. Jen moved to go grab her own glass, Matt’s free hand trailed down her arm as she left.

She stood at the sink and drank her water quickly. “Will you help me?” she asked, her hands bracing her weight  against the counter.

“Sure. What do you need?”

“Getting out of this dress. Getting into it was one thing…I can’t reach the zipper in the back.”

“Yeah, alright,” he reached forward with another smirk. “If you wanted me to get you out of a dress, there are other things that could have gone about happening.”

She turned her back to him, a hand sweeping her dark hair off her neck. “You’d have to work harder than this.”

His fingers followed the ridge of the zipper, seeking out the clasp and he pulled it down to the bustle at the small of her back.  
“You really are something, Jen,” he whispered.

“That’s what I’ve been told,” she jabbed and headed into the bedroom to change. She returned in a blue tank top and a pair of shorts and a bottle of water from her room. She drank deeply and plopped onto the couch with a resounding thud. Murdock walked over tentatively and sat down beside her, leaning on his knees.

“Did you have fun tonight, fancy food aside?” she leaned her back into his side, her legs stretching across the couch.

He laughed to himself, “Yes, you could say that. Had a good meal, heard a motivating speech…dessert was great and drinks afterwards were spot on.”

Jen knew he was purposely pushing her buttons but she didn’t mind. “Oh, yes, that’s all very true. If you’re not leaving anything out, then I can go to bed and we don’t have to talk tonight.”

Murdock leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. “What do you want to talk about?”

She sighed, her eyes closed in contentment. “Well, what are we doing tomorrow?”

His fingers played with her hair idly, his other hand propping up his head. “I think, sleep. First and foremost. Late breakfast? What do you want to do?”

Her shoulders pinched up to her neck. “I dunno. Something normal.”

“You don’t have any sessions tomorrow?”

“No,” she yawned. “It finished with the dinner. What do you need to do to prep for class Monday?”

“I mean, I’m studying for midterms…but that’s about it.”

“I can help you with that.”

His face reflected skepticism. “You want to help me study for midterms. Are you sick?”

“No. I think it’s important. You’ve been hanging out with me every single night this week until early morning…you got beat up yesterday…and I’m pretty sure that my liver needs a break…so…boring and normal seems appropriate.”

His hair fell to the side when he nodded. “Okay, I’ll study some tomorrow.”

“What time is it?” Jen’s voice growing husky with sleep.

“Conveniently, a woman gave me a watch today and I can tell the time.”

“Oh? Must be pretty smart.”

“Damn smart,” he reached down to check the time. “Twenty after three.”

She groaned. “We should go to sleep. I’m assuming your following me?”

“It’d be three for three if I do. If you’re more comfortable with me taking the couch, I’ll do that.” She stood up and grasped his hand, giving a light tug.

“Come on, hot shot. You look as tired as I feel. Let’s get you to bed.”

Matt followed dutifully and changed into a pair of shorts while she worked on packing some of her clothes away for her trip back. The energy radiating off of her was warm and reassuring, she still smelled of dessert and rum, and his lips tingled in memory from the hallway. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn’t been paying attention that he’d been trying to unfasten his collar without taking care of his tie.

“Hang on,” she interrupted his thoughts. “I’ve got you. Let me help.”

In an instant, she had rounded the bed and had her hands at the knot at his neck. Once loose, she pulled it from his neck and tossed it to the dresser before beginning to meticulously unbutton the rest of the shirt. Her eyes wandered from his face, down to the hollow of his neck; his exposed torso all before she looked to where her hands were working. The subtle smell of his aftershave and soap drifted into her focus as she worked. She realized that she hadn’t properly taken notice of it at dinner, more than likely due to the overabundance of smells hanging in the air at The Carlyle. But this, she thought, was pleasant and perfectly Matthew.

His eyes opened and closed lazily, his tongue sweeping across his bottom lip and she felt lightheaded. Matthew Murdock most certainly had an effect on her.  
“Better?” Her voice sounded like it was apart from her, almost as if it were its own entity with its own agenda.

“I’d like to do something foolish,” his chest heaved steady. “If you’ll let me.”

Jen cocked her head to the side and committed everything about his face in this moment to memory, a gentle smile splayed on her lips. “I think I can allow that.”

A strong, warm hand cupped her cheek as his head bowed down to hers. Jen’s hand ran through his hair and rested at the nape of his neck, gently pulling him to her. His lips were soft and she felt her own mouth melt against his. The corners of her lips pulled upwards and her hand rested on his chest.  
_Is this what bliss is like? Is it? Because if it is, sign me the hell up. I will drink whatever Kool-Aid it is if this is what a taste of happiness is like. Be careful, Jen…don’t fuck it up._

Jen pulled away, her forehead leaning against Matt’s collar bone, breathless. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” his voice had become husky. “I should be.” Matt rested his chin on her head. “I didn’t mean to push.”

A sharp intake of air and a pause freed up the silence before she replied, “I uh…I just…” she sighed.

“It’s fine, really. Whatever you want, I’m good with it.”

“Okay,” her head bobbed under his chin. Jen guided him towards his side of the bed and made her rounds turning off the lights. Jen returned, her hands lifting a pillow and her blanket from the bed.

His hand stretched out and grabbed at her pillow. “Where are you going?”

“I think it’s best that I sleep on the couch…considering…”

“No,” Matt pulled. “You should stay.”

“Matt,” her voice drew out his name like a sigh.

“Please. Just talk to me.”

She frowned. _Just talk to me? Are you kidding?_ “I don’t think that’s a good idea either.”

“No,” he sat up, leaning against the headboard. “Look, I haven’t told you to do anything. Ever…because…that’s just not how we work. But you are going to do as I tell you…you have to…I need you to. You’re going to stay here a-and even if you don’t talk to me,” he exhaled. “Jen…stay.”

She heaved a weighted groan. “Fine. Fine. Your way.”

She did her best to slide into bed without disturbing Matt too much. She recalled him talking about the room spinning the night previous and considering how much they’d had to drink, she didn’t want to chance it.

“Your hand,” he reached out for her. Reluctantly, she extended her arm and placed her hand in his.  
“I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. That’s for sure.”

“Why,” Jen choked. “I don’t get it.”

A light chuckle rattled in his chest, “You’re going to need to help me out here, Jen. Why what? What don’t you get?”

“Me,” she exclaimed. “This…I just…why? Why…I mean, Jesus, Matt…I’ve practically led you on all damn week and now…now I’ve basically cock-blocked you and…y-y-you are just sitting here like it’s a damn walk in the park.”  
“Christ,” her other hand rubbed her face harshly. “Why are you so patient with me? I mean, come on…”

“I mean, it’s not a walk in the park…that’s for sure… But, is this your defense mechanism,” Matt’s thumb brushed over the back of her hand reassuringly. “When you start to feel happy…you feel like it can’t be true, right?”

“Pfft,” she rolled her eyes and turned her head away, trying to pull her hand away from him.

“No, no, no…no you don’t. Not now…see…this…it’s important,” Matt spoke quickly, his grip tightening. “We talk. Every night. Talk to me.”

A knot formed in her throat, her tongue felt too big for her mouth and a pit had opened up in her stomach that  was ready to swallow her whole. Sure, she’d given this kind of conversation thought and how It would go. In her head. To herself. She never dreamed about having this conversation with anyone before.

“Or don’t,” his voice kind. “But I’m not letting go. I said I’ve got you, and I meant it. Jen…it’s okay. I won’t judge you and…and you and Foggy are all I’ve got. I’m not saying that because…I want you to think I’m desperate…I mean, I might be…but – but you’re important to me. I need you to understand that.”  
Matt clicked his tongue, “If you don’t want to talk, it’s fine. I’m serious. But I’m going to stay here until you fall asleep. I’m not going to let the nightmare get you tonight, either.”

“But why?”

He sighed, “Because I told you that I had your back while you’re with me yesterday.” Jen’s ring and middle finger started to twitch, tension streaming through her body. “I mean it. I’ve got you.”

Jen had to admit to herself that Matthew Murdock had never commanded her to do anything. At best, making her promise him to do better with not getting into fights was it. This was the first time he’d ever been stern about her doing something. Some call it conceding. Jen was taking it on faith.  
“Okay.”

Matt slid down into bed, his hand still fastened to hers, and let a natural quiet settle over the room. Half an hour went by and Jen had finally moved closer, her head now resting in the hollow of his shoulder and a hand resting above his heart.

Of course, he could tell she was a wreck; everything about the way she looked to him was askew. Her face was hot against his shoulder, she kept hesitantly breathing as if she were about to say something, and her skin felt odd against his. Normally, Jen conveyed a comforting and safe feeling; at least, that’s what Matt felt when he touched her. Now she felt distant and cold despite the heat radiating off of her from alcohol and agitation.  
He wanted to tell her how important talking to her had been for him, how her visiting was the highlight of his year so far; but he didn’t say anything. If she wanted to talk, he was prepared to listen.

“I think,” she hesitated, her voice almost a whisper. “I think that I’m incapable of being happy.” He made a guttural sound in his chest.  
“I’ve taken psychology. Plenty of it. I know what makes me tick and what parts of neuroticism flair when I’m pissed  or stressed.”

“Tell me,” he blinked slowly, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.

Her head shook back and forth on his shoulder and she heaved another heavy sigh. She felt sick to her stomach because she knew, after all, where this conversation was going to lead.  
“Are you sure?”

“I’m here.”

“That’s not answering the question,” she warned. “I’m serious. You’re teetering on the precipice of knowing some things that I’ve not even told Dominic. Like, I know once I start, I’m just going to keep going and…You have to understand that…it’s…agony…and…there’s going to be a lot…of it…”

He inhaled deeply though his nose. “Okay,” he breathed. “Okay. Whatever you want to tell me, I’m listening.”

She stretched her jaw as best she could: she hadn’t noticed she’d be been clenching it shut so tightly nor did she realize that her mouth was going dry again. Her stomach had done little to ease itself and the pit there felt bottomless.

“My mother,” her voice felt small. “She…ultimately…started sending me to therapy…of sorts, when I was in high school when she realized that I was…uh…becoming more of a deviant, to put it politely.”  
“I think, in her defense, she was terrified I would get pregnant at fifteen and blow her shot at my education and being a mother…I dunno. She never really talked to me about it. She was always angry. I know that she blames me, yeah? I can see it in the way she talks to me or acts around me…it’s my fault that he’s gone, my fault that I’m the way I am…and even though she would never say it…I know she thinks it’s my fault about what happened…with my father.”

_Holy God. Jen…how can your mother even begin to – to make you feel that way…_

“The therapist she sent me to was top notch…but at that point…we both knew I should have been in therapy after my mom had found out about the sexual abuse. My mother’s a very selfish person, yeah? Sh-she doesn’t care for anything other than how it could potentially reflect on herself.”  
“So I went to therapy for six months. Didn’t feel like it was helping. Told the Doc it wasn’t her fault, she was doing everything that she was supposed to and that it was me; so I left.”

“Dom, yeah…he uh,” she shifted uncomfortably, rotating her jaw again. “He noticed. Always noticed when I was about ready to try and dive off into the deep end, you know? It…it’s like a sixth sense for him…and he’d make sure he was around and that he’d get into trouble so that I’d have to come save his ass from the cops or a girlfriend. He’s…he’s smart like that.”  
“He made me promise to tell him about everything I was doing in that regard…if I was drinking, how much…if I got into other shit, what it was…who I was sleeping with, did I get tested; was I being smart…I think it terrified him to think about how grown-up he had to be to keep me from self-destructing. God knows…I tried at one point.”  
“To look at, I had everything, yeah? Good grades, active in school, playing with the symphonies and shit…diversified abilities and disciplines…a best friend…decent college…but after school and on the weekends…”

“Dom’s solution to me wanting to fight was to have a fight club in the woods so that he could keep an eye on me. I know. I’m not stupid…but…even then, I uh…I…wanted to feel something. I’d already had a handful of guys I’d dated. I slept with most of them.”

She waited for some disapproving sound from Matt, but it never came. His head would occasionally move from side to side as he absorbed the information she was giving him and his face remained oddly placid. She had thought it odd: the man who emoted so much to her was now very still and she couldn’t read his face.

“If – if I don’t pay attention, I’ll notice my jaw’s clenched like it’s wired shut or…or…my hands will start shaking and I can’t make them stop…I could be reading a book and have to reread the same page seven times because I can’t concentrate…the nightmares…”  
“But when I was fighting…I feel nothing. It all goes away…the pain…the agony…dread…I feel empty…the good kind. The kind where…good things could potentially replace all the bad and I might be okay. But I know that’s destructive…Dom noticed.”

“I’ve hated,” she continued, “The way that I look because when I would peer into the mirror, I always saw one of two things: the child that couldn’t take care of herself or the monster that I was becoming…and – and both of them look so much like my father.” A quiet rage rippled through her voice, “And I hated myself more because of it.”  
“My brain at that point thought that the only way I could deal with all of whatever’s going on in my head was to keep pushing…to be better…to be smarter…to do my job better than everyone else to prove that I wasn’t just some psychological fuck-up.”  
“None of my relationships,” Jen bit her lip. “None of them have ever worked. I know what I want from them and I get what I want, and then move on. I’ve always told every man I’ve slept with what I need or want in that moment and – and I can’t help but think that’s selfish…you know? Like…I don’t trust them to figure it out…”  
“Dominic and I never slept together…I mean…we talked about it at one point…but I was so afraid of messing everything up that…that I told him it was weird…and he believed me. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to cope without him in my life at that point if I messed everything up.”

She sniffed and cleared her throat, “I am so…so terrified of having someone that makes me happy…because…I’ve messed everything up every time…that I’ll let them down. I know it’s me. I can’t trust enough…or…it’s me feeling like I’m not worth enough…I studied it. I know what it is and I try every day to get up out of bed and tell myself that today is going to be the day that it’s different…today I’m going to be normal. But everyday…it doesn’t come.”  
“I don’t know if what I have qualifies for PTSD or something lesser. I’m not a doctor. But it’s there. It’s real. I feel like I live through a part of it every single day and it terrifies me.”

“I force myself to go work out, it helps sometimes. I try to sleep, but the nightmares wake me up. Outside of this week, I really don’t drink _a ton_ anymore, I try to help as many people as I can…you know…like Mr. Rogers said: look for the helpers. That’s what I want to be…someone who helps…and then you walked into my life and…and all of the sudden, I had someone I could talk to with no strings attached.”

“Hmpf,” he nodded. “Sorry I ruined that last part for you…there are strings attached now. I made it so that we were friends.” His other hand came up and clasped around the hand at his heart. “Whoops.”

Her eyes trailed down and she was able to see in detail the healed scrapes, callouses, and split skin at his knuckles. _How long’s he been at it? That’s more than just recently._ “Misery seeks misery, though.”

“How do you mean?” She tapped each of the knuckles on his hand lightly and replaced her hand back to where it had been. “Ah. I mean…that’s nothing.”

She nodded knowingly. “Hmm. You have nightmares, too?”

Matt had been relatively silent this entire time and wasn’t overly keen on sharing everything about his life like he had with Elektra. _Like she said, what if I mess it up and she cuts me out of her life? I don’t know if I could deal with that right now. She’s afraid of messing it up? That makes two of us.  
_“Yeah, sometimes. That’s how I know that the bag helps a little.” Her silence was reassuring. “I…uh…haven’t been working with the bag long…and it usually hasn’t moved very far so…I can keep hitting it and not worry as much.”

They sighed in unison before he continued. “You know, I told you that I lost my vision when I was nine…but…” he trailed off, something vehemently bothering him.  
“There was an older man that was about to get hit by a truck. It was carrying some cannisters of some chemicals…and I saw it. I knew… _I knew_ that if I didn’t get there first, he was going to get struck and killed…so I ran away from my dad and shoved that guy as _hard_ …” he choked. “…as hard as I could. And…a-and…I remember staring up at my dad, the sky behind him…telling me to close my eyes and how my vision kind of faded away into the dark.”  
“I remember waking up in that hospital…terrified. Like my heart was going to burst in my chest…and my dad…he was right there…telling me it was going to be okay, you know…and even though I was…so scared…so…so scared I knew that if he said it was going to be okay…then it might be.”

“Sounds like your dad loved you very much.”

“I think so. He’s been the driving force, you know,” he cleared his throat again, “In everything that I do. Take your hits. Get knocked down. Always get back up. That’s how he fought.”  
“I remember his last fight, you know…sitting in the living room, listening to it as it happened…one hundred sixty-four pounds of solid man…they used to say it was like hitting an oak tree…and he just didn’t let up on Creel…and after every fight, I would go sit in the kitchen and wait for him to walk through the door…but that night I heard a gunshot…I was stupid and I ran out to see…yeah…and…and I found him, lying on the ground…they shot him…because he didn’t throw a rigged match…”  
“I spiraled, you know…I was going insane…everything was gone and I was sent to St. Agnes…it was rough. I got knocked down a lot…but I did everything I could to keep getting up…every time. It still bothers me.”  
“You know…my grandmother, she was something but…she used to say something: _be careful of the Murdock boys; they got the devil in them_ …and when I would watch or listen to him fight…I could always tell. Always…when…”

“When the devil came out to play,” Jen whispered. _I know he’s not telling me everything; and for now, that’s okay. I haven’t told him everything, either…but maybe that’s how whatever this is will get better, you know?_

“Yeah,” he breathed in quickly. “And sometimes I feel like I have it, too.”

“I know…how…that feels? Or…I don’t know…sits? Dom calls it _the wolf_. Says it’s like some…a beast just flickers through and you can see it in my eyes…he called me Hati once….after some wolf in Norse Mythology…he went through a phase in high school…said that Hati would chase the moon across the sky…hoping one day to swallow the moon and eat the feast on the dead.”  
“So yeah…I know… I understand.”

They lay there, quiet, listening to the dulled sounds of New York reverberating through the window. His chest lifted rhythmically under her hand. She snorted, her stomach bouncing against his side.

“Hmm?”

“I haven’t told Dominic most of that…I wonder if he’d be mad.”

 _He might be. He could be. But I don’t think he will be. That’s a lot…and from what he said earlier this week, he’s secretly glad and…with good reason. Now think about that…she’s trusted you with a lot…and you did the same. Sort of. Not everything. But maybe enough. For now.  
_“I haven’t told Foggy some of that, either. Most of it…at least from the point of understanding that last part…you know?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry that I brought down the mood from earlier,” he lamented with a sarcastic laugh. “You tired? It’s got to be close to four.”

“No.”

“Me either.”

“This is okay,” she nodded. “Let’s just…stay here for now. I’ve got you and you’ve got me. It’s safe, right? We’ll go to breakfast later…get your books…and just…decompress, yeah?”

A soothing squeeze around her shoulders seemed to calm her some. “That sounds good. Let’s do that.”

“Matt?” she whispered, yawning and nuzzling into his shoulder as sleep was nagging at her.

“Hmm?” his voice sounding equally as groggy.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

It didn’t take long for the pair to still and drift off into a deep sleep where, for a time, the weight of their worlds were lifted off their shoulders and they could take solace that it was okay to feel damaged. They weren’t alone.

 

It was well past ten when Jen dared to force her eyes open. The sun filtered through she sheer curtains and blanketed the room in a haze of yellow pastels. The pair had shifted around in their sleep: Matt’s head rested at her shoulder and his arms were wrapped around her torso, holding her close to him.  
Jen stretched for the phone as best she could without waking him from his sound slumber. Once she had the receiver in her hand, she dialed down to the desk and was transferred to the concierge.

“Yes, can I place a room service order? Room 1106, last name MacDougall. Thank you. Yes, an order of the French toast…on the side, please…and bacon. Also an order of the Sunrise Sandwich… yes. Home fries. Orange juice and a cranberry juice. Yes. Uh…whenever it’s ready. Yes, I understand it may take some time; that’s absolutely fine. Oh…and could I add two apples to the order? Thank you. Charge it to the room, yes.”

She hung the phone up as quietly as possible and looked down at the man wrapped around her. He looked peaceful, if not restful at present and she lamented having to get up when their food would arrive. On their own accord, her fingers began running through his hair as she lay there admiring the silence and relaxation she felt. The corner of his mouth turned upward as her fingers continued their ministration through his hair.

“Hmpf,” her voice lazy. “That’s something to add to the list, Matthew.”

He stretched and constricted his arms around her. “What’s that,” he mumbled tersely.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Hmm” he groaned, his face digging into her neck. “What time is it?”

“After ten. I ordered breakfast. You’ll have to let go of me when it gets here,” Jen warned, closing her eyes.

“Then you probably shouldn’t drift off back to sleep.”

A smirk sat on her lips. “Well…if I’m such a burden, I’ll just get up,” her arms pushed herself up to no avail. “No?”

“No, not yet.”

“Oh. Comfy, are we?” she teased.

“Ha…ha…” he groaned again. “Why are you talking so loud?”

She patted him on the back trying to soothe his mood. “Someone’s hungover.”

“No drinking today.”

“Nope,” she agreed. “Come on, hot shot,” she untangled herself from him. “You stay put. I’ll make some coffee and grab you some water.”  
After the small pot began to brew, Jen grabbed her phone to check her notifications before making a phone call.

_“Morning! I’ve got to ask…is he alive?”_

Jen smirked, “Yeah, Fog. He’s fine. Hungover and moody, but he’ll live. I’ve promised no alcohol today. I was calling to see if you could do him a favor.”

 _“I suppose I can put pants on and do a favor since you’re asking so nicely,”_ he began shuffling around the room.

“Can you bring his books over? He’s going to study some today and prep for midterms while I get some work done.”

_“His books?! Do you know how many there are? And how heavy they are since they’re braille editions?”_

“Hang on,” her long strides covered the room quickly and she sat on the edge of the bed. “Matt.  Matt?” _Smack._

“Ow! What was that for? Now my back stings!” he yelped.

“Great…what books do you need to study today? Come on, sunshine, focus.”

_“Mac. Did you just smack him awake? You are my hero. Whatever you need, it’s yours!”_

She snorted, “I’ll take a quad flat white and princess will take…wait…hang on. He’s mumbling… What?” Jen leaned down to put her ear near his head since he was talking into the pillow.

His arm shot out and wrapped around her waist effectively killing her chance of escape. “Give me the phone.”  
“Foggy, I need the three books on my desk.”

“Matt, let go! I swear to God, you are dead,” she shouted before he covered her with the blanket.

_“Do I even want to know? Are you two a thing yet?”_

Matt huffed in strain against Jen’s attempts to get free, flopping her on the bed and sitting on her. “No. Not exactly. She’s been talking like she has a bullhorn since she got up this morning. Outside of smothering her with a pillow, this is as good as it gets, I guess.”

_“You realize you’ve effectively made me an accessory to murder, right?”_

“I’m not going to kill her. That would halve the number of friends that I have and then we would actually have to talk more!”

Foggy laughed and closed the door behind him. “ _We can’t have that. Guess that means you really aren’t going to kill her. Hear that, NSA? It was a joke.”  
“You need anything, buddy? I’m already grabbing her a coffee on the way.”_

“Nah, I’m good. Just the books. Thanks, man.”

Matt gently tossed her phone onto the side table after his best friend had hung up and pulled the blanket away from her face slowly. He knew she was pouting and her arms were crossed; he could sense it. She didn’t know that.  
“Are you pouting?”

“No.”

“You’re lying,” a devilish smirk graced his face. “See, I can tell, too.”

“You’re sitting on me,” she squawked. “I’m trying to be nice here. I do know how to grapple, Mr. Murdock…won some medals for it, too.”

“Am I supposed to be impressed by that,” he challenged. “I mean…sure…I bet you have. How’s that helping you now?”

An annoyed growl rumbled in her throat. “ ‘ _No, Foggy. I don’t know what happened to the blind guy. All the sudden, Matt was just folded up like a pretzel and looked like he got his ass throttled…_ ’ I can just see it now.”

“You were being very loud,” his voice matter-of-fact. “So you got wrapped up like a burrito.”

When he finished, Jen leaned up as best she could, “Psst. I have a secret to tell you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Come here,” he could hear the smile in her voice, which is exactly what she was banking on. Matt leaned down, his face inches away from hers. “You are off balance,” she whispered and lifted her hips off the bed enough that Matt was tossed off to the side. Jen unrolled herself and maneuvered swiftly so that she was sitting on his chest, her knees digging under his arms.  
“Now, if you’re quite finished,” smug, she was pleased with herself. “You’ll get far worse than this if you keep it up. And I’ll start with eating your breakfast and not letting you have any coffee. Or aspirin.”

Matt wore an expression of genuine, captivated surprise. _That’s impressive…can’t say that I didn’t see it coming, but…still…technique and execution was near flawless. Maybe…one day…we can make this a little more fair…maybe._

“That’s what I thought,” she hopped off of him and pocketed her phone. “You did this to yourself; I wouldn’t sit there dejected for too long, Mr. Murdock. You’re going to have work to do soon.”

 “Sure, whatever you say. Doesn’t make the handprint between my shoulder blades sting any less.”

“Aww,” she frowned. “Poor baby.” A chaste kiss was pressed to his forehead. “Come on, hot shot. Time to get up. Breakfast will be here soon.”  
“Tell you what, I’ll shower quick and get you started on some aspirin and coffee. Then we can trade.”

 _That shower will help something. Christ._ “That’s fine,” he nodded, sitting up in bed. “Could you…”

Jen had already disappeared from the bedroom and returned with a cup of coffee, sugar, and the bottle of aspirin. “Here. Careful, it’s really hot. How many aspirin do you want?”

“Two should do it.”

Two pills were placed in his hand and she disappeared into the bathroom to take a quick shower. She didn’t bother shutting the door, it didn’t really do much of anything in her mind since Matt was blind. Soon steam billowed out of the entry way, notes of her soap wafting effortlessly through the air. The aroma in the steam combined with the coffee in his hand were overly pleasant. He heaved a languorous sigh.  
_Not a bad way to wake up._

Jen emerged towel drying her hair and began digging through Matt’s bag to grab his toiletries out for him, setting them on the shelf in the shower. He could sense the thin hoodie she was wearing, more like a shift than anything, clinging to her damp skin and, based on the amount of heat radiating from her, she was in another pair of shorts. _Damn it, Jennifer. Ugh._

She left a towel on the door rail and ensured that she had dried up any of the water on the floor from her getting out. _There. That should do._  
A quick discussion and tour of the bathroom left Matt on his own to get cleaned up. In that time, food had arrived and Foggy walked in not long after with Matt’s required reading.

Jen shared her breakfast with Foggy while they talked peaceably about the night prior. She spoke about the speech and closing the Café down with Matt and the others from school before returning back to the hotel so late.

“Sounds like the two of you had a blast. Good for you,” he smiled warmly. “Also, as promised, one quad flat white for the lady of the morning. I could feel the sting through the phone. Where’d you get him?”

“On the back. He was mumbling and not paying attention…so he got smacked. He’s also been surly. Hopefully he’s not as cranky once he gets out of the shower.”

“I heard that,” Matt quipped from the entry way, clad in nothing but a towel at his waist. “You’re the one that was practically yelling as soon as you woke up.”

“Jesus, Matt. Look at you,” Foggy stood, concerned. “He really did a number on you! Thank God Mac was around when that asshole started throwing blows.”

“Oh, right,” he nodded, his hand pressing against the bruised skin at his side. “Josh. Is it that bad?” His head turned toward Jen’s direction. He could tell she was watching him, probably giving him a once-over: her adrenaline was increasing and her heart beat a little louder than normal.

“It’s not that bad,” Jen offered, taking a drink of water, eyes not moving from him over the rim of the glass. “I’ve had worse.”

Foggy reeled and stared at her, “But he’s blind!”

Jen shrugged and walked over to Matt. “Move your hand. If you let me, I’ll check to see if you being blind has anything to do with how you can take a hit,” she joked. Matt rolled his eyes.  
“He’s going to be fine, Foggy. No broken bones. Couple of nasty bruises…but he’ll heal just fine. I already feel bad enough about it without you guilting me some more about what went down.”

“Matt, buddy,” Foggy shoved him back into the bedroom after sneaking a glance at Jen’s face. “Put on a shirt. Jesus. The tension between the two of you is almost palpable. What are you trying to do, give her a stroke?”

“I heard you guys talking and…I guess…I forgot…”

“Liar,” Jen goaded from the dining table.

His best friend went into hysterics, leaning on the wall for stability. Matt’s tongue poked into his cheek, annoyed, and he threw his head back in a groan.  
“You know, you could just…not announce it every time…that’d be cool.”

“There’s no fun in that,” she informed with a lilt in her voice. “Besides, if you didn’t want me to announce it, you two shouldn’t have been talking so loud in the first place. I’m sitting here, minding my own business…eating my breakfast…doing work on my tablet…don’t mind me…”  
“In fact, I’m going to go get ice and I’ll be back. That way you two can gossip and I’ll leave you to it for the next three minutes.”

When the door closed behind her, Matt’s cheeks puffed white his exhalation and Foggy grinned. “So,” Foggy led, “What _are_ you two calling this, hmm?”

“I dunno, man. Whatever it is, we’re not going to push…whatever happens, happens. She’s hurting. And let’s be honest, Elektra did some damage to me when she left…so, yeah. It is what it is?”

“Alright. I’ll quit asking. Just…just promise me that _you’ll_ be smart about this. Because, Matt; buddy, she’s turned out to be a really good friend. For both of us. I don’t want that to go away if you guys dabble and it goes south. I – I know that it’s selfish to say…but…I like Mac. I think she’s great to talk to and be around.”

Matt nodded, shoving his arms through the sleeves of his shirt. “No…I get it. We – we talked about that last night…you know…we’ve talked every night about things that we don’t necessarily want to talk about over the phone…and we both agree that we don’t want to mess anything up.”

“Good,” Foggy patted Matt’s shoulder. “Because, I’m pretty sure she could kill you with her pinky if you did something stupid.”

“She probably could,” he laughed. “I don’t doubt that. Hey, you wanna hang out here and study? I don’t think that she’d care and we could all hang out together.”

“Nah. You guys do your thing, whatever it is. I might swing by later and have dinner with you two before she flies back tomorrow morning.” He heard the door open and Jen placing the ice chest back on the counter.  
“Actually…hey, Mac! You wanna do dinner tonight? The three of us?”

Her hands sat on her waist, “Sure…yeah. That’s sound amazing. You pick where we’re going. Are you sticking around or heading out? You can stay if you want.”

“Thanks, I’m going to go back and do laundry…you know, the glorious aspects of being an adult and what not. I’ll text you to let you know where we’re going. Make sure you don’t kill him,” he pointed at Matt, “between now and then.”

“Aye, aye, skipper,” she saluted.

“Hey, thanks for the breakfast! Buddy, if you’re as hungover as she thinks, you better eat, too. It’ll help,” Foggy gathered his things and headed for the door. “I’ll see you two, later. Behave yourselves, kids.”  
The door closed quietly behind him and Jen took her seat at the table to get back to work.

“Foggy said something about breakfast?” She tapped on the table, her mouth full of French toast. “Bless you.”  
He sat down and began to eat, slowly, the breakfast that had been brought up. The sandwich wasn’t bad; she’d done a good job picking something that she thought he’d eat…and she left him the orange juice.  
_It’s happy juice…since oranges are happy fruit. Ha…Jesus._

Nimble fingers tapped swiftly against the touchscreen, occasionally a grumble or a muttering of words would pass by her lips. Nearly done with his food, Matt wiped his face and cocked his head to the side.  
“What’s wrong? Anything I can do to help?”

“No,” she groaned, rubbing her eyes. “It’s work-study payroll. There’s a discrepancy with hours worked versus hours claimed. I’m going to have to call and get things verified before I can go ahead with paying them. It’s always the same damn three people, too; like no one’s checking.”

Matt nodded in understanding. “Wow. They have you doing payroll? That’s impressive.”

“I have a master key to the university,” she chimed in without looking up from her screen. “There’s a lot of work that they have me do as an undergrad that could surprise you. It’s the curse of being competent, I suppose.”  
“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, a little,” he got up to wash his hands. “Sorry for being moody.”

“Forgedaboudit,” she attempted to sound like a stereotypical New Yorker. “No? Well, I’ll add that to my list of impressions to never use again.”

He returned to the table with one of his books and opened it to the page Foggy had bookmarked for him. He began to search for where he had left off before electing to just re-read the entire chapter. Jen growled to herself and apologized, “I need to call school. I’m sorry. I can take it in the bedroom if it’ll bother you.”

“It’s fine,” Matt offered. “It won’t distract me. I mean, I might want it to. I’m going to be brushing up on the history of civil procedure in the federal and state circuits…so, by all means, go ahead.”

Her phone was placed at her ear and the dial tone clicked, a monotone voice coming through, _“Hello?”_

“Mr. Connor…it’s Jen MacDougall calling. I’m sorry to bother you on a Sunday, sir.”

He groaned, _“No you’re not, MacDougall: you’re never that upset about bothering me because it usually means that you need a professor’s authorization for something or the like. What seems to be the problem this time?”_

“It’s payroll. There are discrepancies…again…with the same three students claiming hours when they aren’t scheduled to work. If you okayed their time, that’s fine…I’ll finish up the data and ship it over to finance. But the amount claimed varies greatly to hours scheduled.”

_“Hmm…how much so?”_

“Well,” she sighed, shouldering her phone so that she could have her hands on her tablet. “We’re talking thirty or more hours over…per person.”

_“Jesus…no. Absolutely not. You know the drill. Half hour here and there, fine. It helps with scholarship money…but that’s absolutely ridiculous! I can, literally, count on one hand the number of students that pull those kind of hours on a regular basis from our department as far as work study goes…and you’re one of them. Deny it and send them their temporary suspension.”_

“That’s part of the problem, sir. One of them is Josh. There are things that complicate matters that you need to be made aware of…and I hope that after I explain, you’ll send the email instead of asking me to do it, for the sake of transparency and accountability,” her resolve firm.

Her professor paused, his tone conflicted. _“Like what?”_

Jen went into detail, explaining Josh’s behavior before they left for the trip, once they got to conference, and about the incidents that occurred in the hallway plainly. She was doing her best to bed the anger rising in her throat, but Matt knew better. A small ripple in her voice, a mild tremor in her left hand, and an increase in respirations were enough information to tell him she didn’t want to have to explain any of this.

_“God damn it, Jennifer. Grosso sent him home with a citation to the provost? Jesus. You know how this will look on the school? You of all people know that he was close to Prieto. Another scandal could put the school under serious scrutiny…including yourself.”_

“Me of all people?” she practically snarled. “I didn’t ask for any of this and you know it! I’m asking you to send the email with your signature stating that they are suspended pending a meeting with the Dean of the School…and now you’ve managed spin this around so that I’m supposed to…what…feel sorry for what happened like it was my fault? I’m flabbergasted th–that we’re even having this conversation!”

_“MacDougall, you have a long career ahead of you. Be smart and be reasonable. You’ll still need friends in various places here to ensure that you get ahead in the world. I’ll send the email, but you are going to have to cut some of your hours in order for it to be more fair…”_

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she seethed, standing so abruptly that her chair was knocked backwards. In an effort to control herself, she closed her eyes. “You and Prieto…you were close, too, weren’t you?”

 _“That’s beside the point,_ ” his voice snide, _“You don’t have a lot of ground to stand on at the moment. Think about how this looks: two years in a row, you’ve been in the middle of some sort of assault after going to this conference. How do you think that looks?”_

“I don’t give a shit how it looks,” her voice venomous. “You can’t be serious! Sir, this has to be a sick joke…Grosso found Josh’s conduct to be heinous and shipped him home!” Despite her efforts to sound sure and strong, she felt terrified. The pit in her stomach had opened up and she felt as if she were falling into it, grasping at nothing but air as she descended down.

_“Yes, I know. Josh already came to see me. Now, Josh is a lot of things, but he is a star at this school that will bring in a great deal of money to this university once he becomes an alum. His parents are the same. Their checks help to fund the education you receive…”_

Jen opened her eyes to find Matt’s expectant hand open, his fingers beckoning. His brows were knit together and his lips were pressed into a hard line. He looked angry and it dawned on her that most of the time, he was able to hide what his eyes were doing behind his glasses. In this instance, you could see how pissed off he was in his eyes.  
_Have I seen him angry yet? I mean, I only get to see him a week a year at this rate…he’s fuming…_

“Jen. Give me the phone…please.”

She moved to stand beside him and placed her device in his hand without a second thought. He cleared his throat and pressed the mobile device to his ear.

His voice was cold and his consonants incredibly crisp as he spoke, “Mr. Connor, my name is Matthew Murdock and I am advising my client to not discuss anything further with you regarding a Josh Michalka. Should you have any questions, Miss MacDougall will gladly pass along my information to you once she returns to Ohio.”  
“Now, seeing as that, despite being on a university sanctioned trip, events occurred here in the State of New York, meaning that the potential charges pressed against him would be within our legal right to seek and apply to New York Law. Should she wish to proceed, Sections 120.20 and 120.45 of the New York Penal Code could be slapped onto your student. Since I can assume you are not familiar with law in our neck of the woods, I would like to indicate that charges of reckless endangerment in the second degree and stalking in the fourth degree, both misdemeanors in class A and B categories respectively, would warrant Mr. Michalka to have to come back to New York for court.”  
“I strongly advise that you not hinder any potential investigation pending against Mr. Michalka and you be forthcoming and honest with any information that will be needed to clear both you, members of your staff, and your university from any charges that I may advise my client to press should it be discovered that a person or persons were obstructing due process.”  
“Have a wonderful day.”

He handed Jen back her phone and went back to reading his textbook without batting an eye. Jen put her phone to her ear, chuffed, “Professor, I hope that clears things up for you.”

 _“Transparently,”_ his speech quick. “ _We can discuss the matter at hand when you return. I will send the email today to those three students in question.”_

“You can rest assured,” Jen found some courage in her gut, “That you can expect an email from Grosso and the provost as well, sir. Your message has been received loud and clear. Now you’ll hear mine.” She hung up and tossed her phone onto the table with a sigh, throwing her head back.

Matt’s arm snaked its way around her waist and pulled her closer to him as he kept reading. “Life certainly isn’t dull with you around, Jen. That’s twice this week I got to pretend to be a lawyer without passing the bar.”

“I’m sorry,” her arm wrapping around his shoulders. “You didn’t have to. I don’t want you to get in trouble for it.”

“It’s alright; I like living dangerously,” Matt waved it off, continuing to read. “I took a chance, I’ve got your back when you need it. Though, let’s keep the whole me not officially being a lawyer yet thing under the radar.”

“You got it. Thank you,” she rubbed his shoulder looking at the page he was reading. “How’s the reading going?” she offered in change of subject.

“It is. At this point,” his fingers trailed over a line, “I’m reviewing the Conformity Act of 1872…in layman’s terms…federal law up until that point was a disaster and Congress passed the act so that federal courts would adhere their rules and procedures to the current practice…blah, blah, blah…”

“That sounds like…you know…tons of fun…oh boy…” she lied.

“Hmm,” he murmured. “It’s something, but it’s important. While you’re thinking about it, send your emails to the provost and to your professor, then get back to work. I have at least three chapters to get through and I want to get through them by two…I think I can do that.”

“You’re a good thing, Matt,” she hugged, moving back to her chair. “Whatever I did to get you into my life, I’d like to put bubble-wrap around it to preserve it.”

“Technically, you were sitting alone at a bar while I was trying to get out of the way so Foggy could ask a girl out…” he pursed his lips in thought. “And I offered to call you a cab.”

Jen snorted, “Not as profound an origin story as others, but I’ll take it.”

 

It was close to three thirty. Matt was now sitting on the couch, his book in his lap and an arm propping up his head while Jen sat at his feet, her back pressed against his legs. She placed her tablet on the coffee table, her fingers rubbing the strain from her eyes.

Matt stretched awkwardly from his spot on the couch. “That’s it. I need a break. Otherwise my mind is going to melt. Come on.”

She leaned forward and watched as he moved about the room, gathering his glasses, shoes, and cane. “Where are we going?”

“For a walk. I need to get out for a bit. Come on. We can get something to eat while we’re roaming. But if we’re going, you’re going to need to change.”

Jen clicked her tongue, getting up from the ground. “And how do you know what I’m wearing?”

 _Smooth, Murdock. How are you going to talk yourself out of this one?_ “What?” his face innocent. “I know you have shorts on. I felt them when we were at the table…and that’s how I know that hoodie isn’t going to do either. Plus you’ve been leaning up against me for the better part of an hour,” he pointed out.

She muttered, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll go change. It’s cold out anyway.” Jen had begun changing on her way into the bedroom without realizing Matt could see her.

He could hear the denim from her jeans brush over her legs, her feet slip into the leather boots and hands pick out two shirts from her luggage, then walking out to where he sat.  
_Jesus Christ, Jen…I’m going to need a cold shower if you keep this up._

“Alright, sir,” the essence of her cascading into his senses as she stood there. “This one or that one?” Both shirts were held out before him, his hands skimming over them.

“What do they look like?”

“This one,” she waved in his hand, “is green, like an emerald. The other…is grey and black.”

 _The emerald one is much softer, probably made of bamboo by the feel of it. The other isn’t as soft…but reveals a bit more…hmm…_  
“I’d say the green.”

She slipped it over her head, “Wonderful. I just need to grab my coat and purse. Ready?”

“Did…did you just change in front of me?”

“Yes. Does it bother you?”

Matt stood up and shouldered his coat on, “Nothing to make a blind man wish he could see more than that.”

Jen fastened her peacoat and stood at the door, “I’m sure you _saw_ plenty yesterday.”

“What, you think I can see? You do realize…I’m blind, right?”

Jen smirked and held the door open for him. “I think you can see something, maybe not like you could when you were a kid or like me…but I think your mind processes something and maps out things for you. I mean, logically, I would think it does.”

Matt waited for her in the hall and wrapped his hand around her arm. “I guess. Sort of. It’s different,” he waited for her to probe with more questions, but she remained quiet while they walked to the elevator to go out.  
“When I’m touring a room, my mind kind of makes a general blueprint of it. I have idea of how your room looks. Then as I sit there, the sounds that are more ambient to you fill in gaps…like where the vent it…the fridge…the sink…It’s more like seeing space and what is and isn’t there.”

They stepped out into the cool air, Jen inhaling deeply through her nose. “So, at the risk of sounding like an insensitive asshole,” he laughed and led her down the sidewalk, “Is it kind of like braille in that regard? I mean…so my classmate in elementary school that was blind, she said reading it was about knowing what was and wasn’t on the page.”

“A little. I can justify it, some…I will say though, the other four senses amped up after I lost my sight. Subtle smells are a little more potent…I can hear things better and it’s…it’s like I’m more sensitive to volume, you know? You studied it in school. In the absence of one sense, the body adapts. It gets harder in crowds…but lately I have a wonderful woman guiding me around and she must look like a bit of a badass: I haven’t been bumped into when we go out.”

“There it is. There’s that flattery thing that you do. Stop, crosswalk.”

He stopped, “I’m serious! Anytime I’m out with you, I don’t get shouldered. It’s great. Ah, so when we cross the street, hang a left and keep going for three blocks.”

“You got it. It’s not that I’m a badass, Matt. I don’t feel like one. It’s that I usually look pissed… wait… cross… curb… most of the time. If that makes me a badass, then I’m a reigning champ.”

“Now…wait…I don’t believe that,” he argued, his head leaning toward hers. “You are laughing and smiling _all_ the time. At least you have been…this week. Mostly. Are you trying to tell me that has been a sham?”

“Ntk,” her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth. “I have pretty serious resting bitch face. It’s just my face. It looks angry…even if I’m just sitting around reading a book. Pissed. Watching a movie? I look like I’m going to murder someone. Playing my tuba? I look like I’m a serial killer. It’s a gift.”  
“Besides, it’s your fault with all the laughter and shit. I don’t laugh anywhere near as much as I do like when I’m talking to you.”

“That’s a shame, your laugh is wonderful.”

“Wonderful? That’s a first. Stop. Another crosswalk.”

He nodded again to convey he understood her directions, “Something in it. It’s beautiful…like I can see it…like it’s light or something. Not to sound corny.”

“Very,” she smiled, sheepish. “Can’t have that. Cross…curb… I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard someone openly admit that they like the way I laugh.”

“Someone should have told you sooner,” he stated plainly. “Go right at this cross street. We’re almost there.” Dutifully, Jen followed his directions and led them deeper into Hell’s Kitchen.  
“My turn: what is it that makes you want to be with me? I mean,” he gave a nervous chuckle, “You could have easily ignored me at the bar that day or not come out for drinks the next night. What was it?”

“Wow. Okay…” she paused. “I had been lost in my thoughts, you know…thinking about how I would have been different had my father not done things to me…how that might have changed everything about me…”  
“You walked over and offered to call me a cab…which, I might add was very chivalrous of you. But something about the way you sounded…or your presence…I dunno.”

“Oh?”

“You seemed like me a littlie, I guess…and I thought, ‘ _What the hell, why not’_. And we sat there for hours, talking…just…talking without any precursors or prejudice…two strangers by happenstance meet in a bar and both need to let a sliver of their soul shine through the dark to someone…”  
“I think I saw you and…I thought…hey, he’s okay. We’re all just plugging along, improvising how to live life and here’s this guy that’s doing just that…and…I dunno, there’s something that…just…makes sense.”  
“Then I came back to talk to you some more. You were doomed to be one of my best friends after that.”

Murdock’s torso heaved with laughter, “Doomed, yes. That seems appropriate.”  
“By the way, this is the place. Come on.”

They sat at a booth in a small dinner that reminded Jen of a place near college. The smell of coffee, a seasoned flat-top, fry oil, and bacon permeated the air. They ordered lunch and Jen put him to the test.  
“Same question, Mr. Murdock: what makes you want to be around me?”

“Well,” he thought to himself before answering. “You’re honest. Maybe to a fault, but I can appreciate that. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, but you’re not invincible…and I think you know where the line is even through you might not want to admit it…I think you’re an amazingly stunning woman that’s going to make something of yourself. I dunno,” he smirked. “When I’m talking to you, I feel like I can take on the world sometimes…and when you’re around…it’s…”

“You’re trailing off there, Matt,” she teased.

“It’s like everything’s okay and going to work out and be safe and good…I mean…who doesn’t want to feel that way?”

“Hmpf. I was going to say something similar about you.”

“Does this mean we bring out the best in each other?”

“Or the worst,” she added plainly. “Could be both. I dunno. But I’m okay with it.”

“Same.”

Her phone buzzed with a notification from Foggy. She scrolled through and asked, “He’s suggesting Thai Food for dinner. Said you’d know which one. Thoughts?”

“Wondee Siam. It’s good and decently priced. Do you like Thai food?”

“Ch’yeah…I like food, Matt. Just not peas. God, I hate peas…like…dry heaving and willing to starve to death hatred of peas.”

“Dully noted: I know what I’m getting you your birthday,” he teased.

She narrowed her eyes, “I swear to God…you send peas to me for my birthday, I will get on a plane and come beat you.”

“That’s a threat I can get behind,” he chuckled. “Yeah, tell him that’s fine and we can meet him there around seven thirty.”

Her thumbs tapped quickly on the glass screen and she fired off the text to its recipient. Matt deftly reached for his glass and sipped from it. Jen noted to ask him how he knew exactly where his glass was sometime in the future. It wasn’t the first time she had watched him know where to grab items or how he miraculously knew she was going to fall over when she was pretending to be more drunk than she was two nights ago.  
There was a lot of good in Matt Murdock, truly; but Jen knew even before he had talked about the darkness last night that there was some of it hiding in him, too.  
_I wonder…is that it? Is that what I like? That danger of the things that go bump in the dark? What goes bump in the night for him? He knows what my demon is. Maybe one day I’ll meet his. Maybe that’s when I’ll know, whatever it is that I need to know about him…and be able to be fair against it the same way Dom has been with me._

“…and then I married a hamster.”

Snapping out of her mind, Jen shook her head and coughed. “Sorry. Got lost in thought for a second. I…uh…wasn’t listening. I was thinking.”

“About?”

“Something concerning you, but I can’t tell you yet,” she leaned forward. “That’s why I was thinking rather than talking. Maybe one day I’ll tell you. But for now, I’m going to keep my thoughts to myself.”

“Thoughts? And I’m in them? That’s rather scandalous. Keep this up and Foggy will definitely believe we’re together.”

Jen chuckled and leaned back, staring idly out the window. “We can’t have that now, can we?”

 

Matt and Jen stood outside the door of the diner full and energies renewed after their late lunch. He extended his cane and inhaled the city deep into his lungs.  
_Today is good: I could get used to this…whatever it is… I feel like I could jump these buildings, face an army…and I know that she’d help me do it._

“Trust me?” her voice disrupted his thoughts.

 _More than I probably should._ “Uh…sure.”

“Nah,” she warned. “It’s a yes or no, Matt. Either you trust me or you don’t.”

“Then yes, I trust you.”

Her tone was light, “Good. Let’s go. Enjoy the city; don’t think about where you’re going. I want you to tell me what you experience while we’re walking. So don’t you worry…I’ve got you.”

“Okay…but I don’t know if I can turn it off…you know…it’s how I live and survive,” he warned, an uneasy, deflecting smile on his face.

“Then give me your hand,” she offered, her voice warm. “You’re not alone in the dark if you’ve got my hand. Try.”

 _This could be disastrous…does she realize I could trip and get us both hurt…or…what if there’s construction?  What about…_  
Matt didn’t realize he had extended his arm toward her and only when her hand wrapped around his did he stop worrying. He focused on the warmth radiating so vibrantly in his hand and the pleasant, rhythmic heartbeat pulsating against his palm. He awkwardly folded his cane and tucked it under his arm.  
_Okay. I can try._

People that walk through the streets of New York hustle, almost as if an unknown propellant were pushing them forward. On this day, however, two people strolled idly along the sidewalk; hand in hand. Jen led Matt through his city, her eyes intaking everything in order to keep any injury from befalling him and he quietly spoke of the things he sensed as they moved through the masses.

He pressed himself closer to her, his face not far from her ear. Matt spoke of the various smells he was interpreting, including the ones on the pair of them; and how he could feel people walking by without having them physically brush past him. He would pick up on subtle sounds before she could and tell her what to expect around corners or down the street. At crosswalks, he would begin describing, casually, the people around them.

“You’re making that up,” she whispered. “There’s no way that you can smell someone who owns a cat and went to a shawarma joint recently.”

“Oh? You think so? If I account for the slight breeze, I’m guessing they’re to our two o’clock or so…definitely has a cat, though. And that cologne…it’s strong.”

She inhaled out of exasperation, but caught a whiff of what Matt was talking about. Her eyes moved around from person to person in the general vicinity he had commented on and sure enough, there was a man with fine, white hair scattered about his dark coat. _Cat hair…well, well, well, Mr. Murdock…oh Christ, that cologne is awful._

“It really is bad. And the cat is white, if you wanted to know,” she gripped his hand a little tighter.

“Told you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she admitted. “You were right. Don’t get used to it.”  
_Alright, his senses are way better than I gave him credit for. Props to him. Note to self: don’t underestimate Matt Murdock and trust his gut when he tells you to do something…he probably can interpret it before I do_

Matt shrugged innocently. “What? I’m just saying I can use my other senses better than you.”

“Come on, hot shot,” she elbowed him. “Crosswalk…curb…we’re almost back.”

 

Upon their return to her room, neither one was overly keen to get back to work. Matt deposited his things quietly onto the small side table next to the couch while Jen moved about the room and put her things away, then he sat on the couch with his book in his lap.

“Can I ask you a question,” her voice carrying from the other room.

His fingers, begrudgingly, sought out the spot he had left off reading on the page and he made some guttural sound in his throat in acknowledgement. “Shoot.”

“Did you let go while we were walking? You know…did you trust me enough to let me guide you back?”

His head wobbled side to side a bit in a sign of apprehension. “Some…but not as much as you probably would have liked. I tried…but…it’s not something I can just…turn off…you know? It’s always there. But it was more than I have let go in a very long time.”

“I’ll take it,” she replied, plopping down beside him with her tablet in hand. “Gotta start somewhere, I guess. Might as well take those steps now while I’m here.”

“Speaking of…what time does your plane leave tomorrow?”

“Takes off at eight. I have a punctuality issue…where…uh…I tend to get to places super early or I feel really uneasy about it. So…I’ll probably get to JFK around six…which means I should leave here no later that five thirty. I’ll get up an hour earlier to finish packing and…”

His right hand rested gently on the back of her left. “Got it. I won’t keep you up late, then.”

“I was anticipating staying up through the night. I already told my professors that I wasn’t going to attend my morning classes before I came out here. I’ll go to my afternoon classes if I feel like it, but my teachers gave me a pass for the day.”  
“How’s reading going now?”

“Boring, but it is what it is. I’m now at the point where I’m deciphering statutes versus court rules for the State of New York. It’s not necessarily what’s going to be on my midterms, but it’s getting a jump start on things I’ll need to know later.”

“Uh-huh…that sounds…fun.”

He sighed, “I like it. It makes sense to me. Just like a lot of the business end of things make sense to you and I would find them absolutely boring.”

“That’s fair,” she opened up her payroll again to find Connor had put the three students on suspension pending a meeting with the dean of the school. “Didn’t think he was going to do it; but he did. How about that...”

“Who?”

“Connor. Though, potentially facing hypothetical legal repercussions probably pissed him off and he’s annoyed as balls with me. He’ll happily sign my intent to graduate early form now… And look-y there: Grosso emailed me back. He’s pissed. Listen to this:”  
“ ‘ _Ms. MacDougall, the allegations and proof provided are troubling, indeed. You can rest assured that this kind of behavior does not stand and I am incensed that Connor has acted in such a manner. A full inquiry will be initiated tomorrow as I have already emailed the dean of the school, provost, and the president. Should you feel, at any time, that you are threatened or uncomfortable, I have attached my cell phone information to the end of this email and I hope that you will call me.”  
“Frankly, I do not tolerate this kind of bullshit and the sooner it’s cleaned up and out of our school, the better. Fly safe and, in an effort to make a joke in poor taste, don’t drink any coffee at the airport this year. I will see you when you get home and expect you in my office during the two o’clock hour for a meeting. Feel free to bring any representation that you have; Connor mentioned something about you already having an attorney in New York. If you don’t have anyone in Ohio, you have an entire law school at your disposal and considering the turmoil you have been through, I would hope that the university would foot the bill. Let me know if you have questions’.”_

“Sounds like not everyone is a dick at your school,” he admitted with a subtle nod, his face screwed up in surprise. “That’s a plus, finally.”

“Yeah. Thank God. At least someone’s on my side.”

“You do realize that Foggy and I are on your side, right?”

She shoved into his shoulder, “Over in Ohio, genius. Yes, I know you both are, thanks.”

“Just checking. How much more work do you have to do?”

“I’m almost done. Payroll’s done until next week, I did some studying for one of my math classes before lunch. I’m on track.”

“What time did Foggy say we were meeting him for dinner?”

She scrolled through her phone, “He hasn’t yet. I mean, it’s only a quarter to five. I let him know that we ate late…but other than that, he’s been fairly quiet. Should I ask him?”

“Nah, he’ll message when he’s hungry. Believe me. I’ve never known that guy to give up on a meal so easily…especially when there’s a pretty girl present.”

“Careful, Matt,” she tapped on her tablet screen. “If I keep getting compliments like that, I might just actually have some self-worth. I’ve done so well so far without it.”  
“And how would you know I’m pretty, anyway?”

“Something in your voice, I guess.”

“Hmm,” she gave him a side-eye.

On the outside, she appeared calm and collected. Internally, however, she felt a mess. After nearly a full week, she was certain that she was attracted to him, and not just because of his looks. He genuinely cared about what she thought, what she liked, and cared that she was well and safe; and, for that matter, she felt the same for him. She wanted him to succeed and do well, she cared about his safety and what was both in his heart and his mind. Jen hadn’t really anticipated that.  
_He’s a pretty face, that’s for damn sure. And that smile of his. Oh, Lord…what have I done to feel that happy at someone else’s smile? I’m a Grade-A shit show… I’ve resigned to being in this limbo state of misery and existing and then…and then you throw this man into the mix? What the fuck? Now what am I supposed to do? He’s wonderful and kind; and he’s got light and shadow in him, too…like me. How am I supposed to not fuck all of this up? How am I supposed to not hurt him when that’s something I seem to have a knack for? Jesus Christ._

“Earth to Jen, are you home?”

“Mmm,” she mumbled. “Thinking again. Sorry.”

He leaned toward her shoulder, “I hear that’s sometimes good for your health. Want to talk about it?”

“I just…” she faltered. “…I’m going to screw something up eventually, and then you’re going to hate me…and that’s what I do and I’m already terrified of when that’ll happen.”

“You are not. Look,” he turned to face her, setting his book on the table. “We’ve been honest with each other all year, right? And if we can keep that honesty and transparency in view, then I don’t think we have anything to worry about. I mean, Jen, I screw up a lot of things, too; but…I’ll be damned if I’m going to screw whatever this is…at minimum our friendship, up because…of…me!”

She blurted out a laugh and covered her mouth with the back of her hand. “At least we’re both screwups and admit it.”

“Jen, I won’t promise you the long-term like you have with Dom because…well…that’s just illogical on my part. I mean, I’ve got Foggy. …and until you came along, just Foggy. I don’t make friends easily, let alone people that I want to spend time with…but I’m going to do everything I can not to mess it up. Aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah…but…”

“Then that’s enough for now,” his voice firm, but his face expressing his worry. _Was it something I did?_

“Okay,” she agreed, her voice quiet. “Okay, it’s enough for now.”

 

 _Bzz bzz bzzzzzz. Bzz bzz bzzzzzz._  
Jen’s phone vibrated loudly against the glass top on the table, alerting her that it was now a quarter to eight. Murdock was reading one of his other books and Jen was watching TV on mute as best to not disturb him. She had been resting her head on his leg, sprawled across the couch.

“Jesus,” she exclaimed into the silence. “Already? Damn. I need to go downstairs.”

“Downstairs? Aren’t we leaving soon? Wasn’t that Foggy you were texting an hour ago?”

“Yeah,” she grumbled, recovering from being startled as she slipped her boots on. “You’ll see. I’m not leaving you here. That’d be weird. And bitchy.”

“Grab ice on your way back?”

“Right,” she spun around, nearly falling over. “You heard nothing. I leapt gracefully like a gazelle, as far as you’re concerned.” The ice bucket was placed deftly under her arm.

“Oh, right,” he nodded. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

“That’s what I thought. Back shortly.” Jen took off out the door with the ice bucket and her key.

The elevator came when called and soon, Jen was descending down to the lobby and Matt had stopped listening for her. He continued to read from his copy of _Cases and Materials on Criminal Law_ until she returned. After a few minutes, he could hear Foggy’s voice in the elevator and a gentle aroma of ginger and spices was permeating the air.  
_Ah. We’re having dinner here. Cool._

The elevator door parted open and Jen detoured toward the ice machine. Foggy followed her, bags of food in hand.

“Get any studying done while you were on your own?”

“Yeah,” he replied, shifting the bags around in his hands. “A little. I mainly got a whole bunch of chores done…you know…all those fun grown-up things that we have to do. What about you two?”

“I got my work done around six-ish. Matt was reading when I came downstairs to get you; the man’s a machine with his reading. Seriously. I’m a little envious.” The ice chest filled quickly and she took one of the bags from Foggy and the pair made their way down the hall.

He shrugged. “That’s Matt. He’s the studious one out of the two of us. It’s why he’ll graduate _summa cum laude_ when the time comes. A lot of this just clicks for him. He’s…like…super smart and brainy already. It doesn’t look like he works, but he does. He’s able to tune out distractions really well and focus. I need some of that in my life.”

“Me, too, at times. Hey, thanks for bringing dinner…I figured hanging out and eating dinner is fairly normal if one’s going for a _boring_ kind of day. I know for a fact that my liver could use some boring…his probably, too.” Jen opened her door and ushered Foggy inside.

“Hey, hey, buddy!” his voice bright. “I come bringing sustenance for the evening, complete with drinks that are of the _boring_ variety as requested by the guest of the week!”

“Foggy! Wow! This is awesome and such a surprise!”

She could hear it: he was doing his best to sound surprised but she knew that he wasn’t. _Maybe he heard us talking in the hallway and that killed the surprise? I’ll let it slide. Foggy thinks he pulled the dinner surprise off, anyway._

“Alright,” hands dove into the paper bag. Foggy pulled out the first container and handed it to Matt. “Herb Salmon for you, Hawaiian Shrimp for me…and,” he handed a container to Jen, “Yum Talay for you.”  
“I got jasmine rice and curry rice…Oh, Jen, here’s your dressing…and Jen requested some dumplings; we got some of those, too.”

“Yum Talay? Seafood, I’m guessing,” Matt sniffed into the air.

“Yeah,” she nodded. Foggy interjected, telling Matt what she had done that he could not see. “It’s good. There’s a place near where I grew up that serves it. There’s usually seafood and fish…and the dressing’s great. Kinda bright and spicy with lime juice and peppers…and then it’s over some greens. Kinda like a salad.”

Matt nodded, digging into his food, “And no peas.”

“Not a single pea to be found,” she grinned.

Foggy had gone to the counter to retrieve glasses and began pouring out tea for them. He thought it quaint, the three of them sitting around the coffee table while a perfectly good dining table was left untouched.  
Time with Mac was something that Matt had needed desperately. He’d been moping around for weeks before, brooding over God knows what…most likely his dad. Getting into law school had been propelling Matt forward for years and now that he was here, it felt as if Matt didn’t really believe he was good enough.  
_It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense…he’s one of the smartest guys I’ve ever known…and he just understands all of this so well…but it’s like he doubts it…like he doesn’t believe he’s as good as he really is…and then Mac shows up and there he is. He’s back to being himself again and he’s ready to take on the world.  
I mean, I feel like that, too. Having Mac around is great. She’s an amazing person. Too bad she’s not going to school out here next year. That’d be dangerous for all of us. And fun. Matt would probably have less moody days if she were around. Just look at him…he’s all smiles._

What if this night could be bottled up and saved for a rainy day when they all needed it? Golden light from the lamp cast its warm glow on everything in the room creating a picturesque scene: three college kids sitting around a coffee table trading mischievous stories from their childhood, dining on cartons of Thai food and reveling in each other’s presence. Laughter resonated in the air mixing delightfully with the aromas from dinner and Foggy thought that just for a minute, this is what life was about: good food, good friends, and knowing that everything for one night was decent.

 

The jovial blond had begun dozing off close to one in the morning and Jen went and tucked him in on the couch. It wasn’t that she felt that Foggy couldn’t handle himself, but if he was here she would know he was safe and he didn’t argue with being given the couch.

The coffee maker gurgled to indicate her first cup of the night had finished brewing. Pouring herself a cup, she retreated back to the bedroom where she and Matt had been sitting in two, close-sitting arm chairs facing the large floor-to-ceiling window. She had been describing the city to him in an abstract manner, speaking of lights as if they were constellations and what images they could make up.

“It most definitely looks like a unicorn surfing on a shark,” she argued quietly. “I swear.”

“That’s got to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“But that imagery is shaping up beautifully in your head,” she patted his arm. “It’s something I learned in psychology. It’s great. You can imagine it, don’t lie.”

“It’s ridiculous,” his lips curling into a smile. “But yes, I can see it.”

“Then my work here is done.”

An uncomfortable noise hitched in his throat, and she turned to face him, her silence indicating that he should just say what was on his mind rather than stow it away.  
“I just wanted, to uh, tell you…that…I’m glad you were here this week… It’s been…been really great.”  
He could hear her sip her coffee and continued, “I – I don’t just mean, you know…yesterday…yesterday was amazing…but…having you here…being able to spend time with you and not just talk to you on the phone…”

“I know; I feel the same,” she agreed calmly, eyes scrutinizing over his features.

“Good, so…then…I have a question for you.”

She cupped her mug between her hands, resting the cup in her lap. “Sure. Go ahead.”

“Would…uh…if you have time…you know, after you get settled from graduation…if you want…you could spend part of the summer here.”

A simpering expression tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Let’s pretend, in a perfect world, that I’m able to come out this summer. Where am I going to stay? I’ve got to save money and get ready to go to Chicago. It’s more expensive than Columbus…”

“You could stay with me at our apartment. Foggy goes home to help out his family in the summers and I stay on campus. If I ask, I don’ think he’d mind.”

“It could be bad, you know…you could hate me after two weeks.”

“Or I might not.”

“Could be bad for our relationship.”

“Or it might not.”

“Are you always this optimistic?”

“Only when I’m not moody. Or studying.”

Her face fell and the logical, pragmatic side of her brain took over. She finished her last gulp of coffee before answering. “It’s not that I don’t want to be here, let me preface with that.”

“…Alright…”

Jen got up, filled her mug again to then stand beside him. Her hand rested on his shoulder. “Let me figure some things out first. I’m supposed to have JJ at some point this summer to help Dom and Melissa; and, I have to decide if I’m getting an apartment or a dorm room…”  
“I want to say _yes, absolutely_ …but the logical side of my brain wants to make sure everything is in order before I make that commitment, you know?”

His head faced forward and his eyes hadn’t moved, but he nodded, “Absolutely. Of course.”

She sat down on the arm of his chair and moved her hand to his opposite shoulder. “I’m not giving you the cold shoulder, I promise. I just want to make sure I have all of my ducks in a row before I commit and then spectacularly dash both of our hopes out from under us.”

“No, I know. I’m glad… I’d have to be worried if you jumped at it so fast… not being practical and all… Then I’d have to tell you that you weren’t thinking straight.”

“Well, thank you for that. Now,” she paused, “What do you want to talk about tonight? It’s your turn.”

“My turn,” he quipped. “How do you figure?”

“Most of the conversations either start with me picking the subject or leading the conversation…so it’s your turn now.”

“How about we just…talk…about anything…everything…no direction, no subjects. Just organic conversation. If it means that we just sit here for a while, I’m okay with that, too.”


	9. Separated

Campus was alive and stirring at eight thirty the next morning. The aspiring lawyers both had the same nine o’clock class  and were heading to one of the local spots to grab a cup of coffee beforehand.

“I’m just saying,” Foggy informed, “I woke up when she was getting ready to leave and it was all rather adorable.”

Matt shrugged in mild defeat. “I don’t remember, Foggy…I was probably half asleep at the time and don’t even remember getting into bed…”

His best friend chuckled, paid for their coffees, and the pair made their way to class with Matt on his arm.  
“It wasn’t long after four, I think,” Foggy reminisced. “I looked over and she was sitting on the arm of the chair and your were sound asleep leaning up against her. She shook you awake and was whispering something to you about being quiet in the morning, guided you towards the bed and tucked you in before packing up the last of her stuff.”  
“She said something else to you before closing the bedroom door and coming out into the main area and writing a note for me as a reminder.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, buddy. She realized I was awake after she set the alarm on my phone for seven thirty. She asked me to take care of you and see you safe before and to go back to sleep, then she walked out the door.”

The fact of the matter was that Murdock did remember the events of the morning well. Jen had sat beside him running her hand through his hair, lulling him to sleep. They hadn’t talked much, but instead sat together in the quiet and dark of the New York night while she sipped her coffee.  
Her whispering drew him slowly from his sleep, assuring him that he was safe and that she needed him to wake up some so that she could to get him into bed. He remembered floating up through the deep waters of drowsiness toward her voice and letting her guide him to soft blankets and plush pillows.  
_Then she promised. She promised me that she’d be back soon. She promised she’d come back. For me._

“What did the note say?”

“Told me that there was fruit in the fridge and that she would text both of us when she landed in Columbus.”

“She’s in the air by now,” Matt recalled. “So I’d say we’ve got an hour before she lands and messages us.”

“Shame you can’t remember it, buddy,” Foggy elbowed him. “Seems like Mac has a soft spot for you.”

“You think every woman does.”

Foggy shrugged and held open the door to the building they were entering for class. “True. But not like Mac.”

 

_To: Matthew; Foggy_

_Made it back to Columbus. Behave yourselves_   
_or I’ll come back to kick your butts._

 

Jen fired off her text message to her friends in New York while she waited for her luggage to appear on the carousel. Once it had appeared, she called Dom and let her know where she was at the terminal to be picked up. Her phone alerted her to a received message from Foggy.

 

_To: Mac-Attack_

_Good to hear._   
_I always behave._   
_Mostly. It was great seeing you!_

 

Dom quickly appeared, stowed her bag, and the two were off towards her apartment before she had to go meet with Professor Grosso.

“How was the trip, beastie?”

Her eyes drifted upward and she shrugged, “Busy, I think would be the best way to put it. Got the job, got invited to a dinner on Saturday because of a speech I wrote…hung out with the boys in the evenings. More of the same as last year, really.”

“Minus the asshat,” Dom affirmed.

“There’ll always be asshats, dear,” she replied kindly. “And I’ll deal with them in various levels of severity as they come into my life. But, no. No Prieto-level incidents this year.”

“Good.”

“How’s my nugget?”

“She’s good. Not sleeping on a regular schedule, but she’s good.”

“I’ve missed her. I’ll come home this weekend and hang out, give you and Melissa a break if you need it.”

“You sure you can’t come home today?”

She sighed, “No. I’ve got a meeting with a professor at two. I’ve got to turn in my graduation application this week, too. I’ve got some work to do.”

“Alright, I guess.”  
“How’s pretty boy?” he goaded with a devilish smile.

“Pretty boy’s fine.”

“I KNEW IT!” he hollered. “You think he’s good looking! Is he better looking than me?”

She rolled her eyes and stared out the window. “I’m ignoring you now.”

“I fucking knew it. Alright. Spill.”

“You’re serious,” her voice flat. “Weren’t you the one telling me that you didn’t want to know everything about my potential romantic affairs and what not?”

“You slut, did you sleep with him?”

“Nah,” she replied with a thoughtful smile reflecting back at her in the window. “I didn’t sleep with him. We talked.”

“You’ve got my attention, Miss Mac. Let’s hear it. Spill.”

Her hand ran through her hair. “I don’t know, dude. What do you want to know?”

“Tell me about him. For real. No bullshit. No convoluted games. Tell me about this guy.”

Her head turned so she could gauge Dom’s mood as to whether he was interested because of worry or general intrigue. “You’ve talked to him…you two were starting to get buddy-buddy before I left.”

“What we have in common is you. Not much else. We talk about you most of the time.”

She sat silent for a few moments collecting herself. “He’s sweet and kind. But he’s an asshole. Then there’s his stupid smile that lights up a damn room and makes me think everything is legitimately going to be okay. And he’s got baggage, too… He’s starting law school next year at Columbia and I’m proud of him for it.”  
“He’s…he’s funny. Like, sarcastically hysterical…I’m almost always laughing when he was around…but…I don’t know…”

“Nah-ah-ah,” he chastised. “Keep going…don’t you shut down now. This is getting good.” He glanced over quickly before his eyes settled back on the road. _She’s shy about it…and she’s blushing. Aww…_

“He wants me to be better for me and nobody else, you know? And…and I think I’ve realized that’s important to me…like…those are the people that I want around me for the rest of my life.”  
“And, I guess, I know that whatever relationship or friendship we have is a priority because he backs it up, he just doesn’t say it is.”

“Sounds like my training is done, my padawan.”

“What are you talking about,” she scoffed with a roll of her eyes.

Dominic bobbed his head to this side and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You’re able to let new people into your life and get close to you. I’ve been trying to get you to do that for a decade. Matt shows up and _pow_ … you’ve now got two new friends that you talk to fairly frequently and you’re figuring yourself out.”  
“I’m proud of you.”

She jabbed his side, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

“I’m serious,” the pitch of his voice going up. “Mac…it’s important! I’ve been worried that you were going to feel alone when the baby came and I couldn’t be around all the time…I’m not saying he’s replacing me by any means…but you don’t know how happy it makes me to know that if I can’t talk to you, you’ve got other people that you trust to talk about stuff with.”

Her phone made a happy little chirp in her hand, her eyes traveling down to read the message. “I guess you’re right. Huh.”

 

_To: Jen_

_Glad you made it back safe._   
_Guess I have to talk to Foggy tonight._   
_And I’ll hold you to your promise._

 

“Is it from him?”

“Hmm?”

“Of course it is. You’re smiling again,” Dominic beamed. “So…what happened to your hand?”

 

“I’m absolutely appalled by the conduct of Professor Connor,” Anthony Grosso paced back and forth in his office. “And your friend…he spoke with him on the phone?”

“Yes, sir,” she nodded in solemnity. “He told him which specific penal codes could be slapped onto Josh if I chose to press charges concerning what happened in New York.”

“What a fucking asshole.”

“Sir?”

“Connor!” the short, Italian-American shouted, hands flailing in the air. “Who does he think he is, huh? He doesn’t even have that much weight in the school to act like that! Not that I condone that behavior…but you get what I mean…I hope. I’m certainly not making light of what happened.”

Jen nodded again. “No, I understand what you’re trying to say and no offense was taken.”

“Leave it to you to be levelheaded about all of this. Good for you.”

She inhaled sharply and winced. “I wasn’t at the time, but I’ve got a good support group of friends that try to keep me grounded. I should probably add that it was my friend that Josh assaulted in the hallway before I was able to separate them.”

“Wow. That’s it. I’m going to the hearing for sure now. What is it that you want out of this, Jennifer? You tell me and I will fight for you to get justice. It’s absolutely ludicrous that such behavior is condoned by certain members of staff and if a stand is mode against it now, perhaps the rest of the cockroaches will leave and crawl back into the darkness they skittered out of.”

Jen’s mouth twitched while she thought about what she wanted and observed her teacher’s behavior. Professor Grosso’s dark hair and chocolate-colored eyes were nearly the same color in the cold, florescent light of his office. He was a stout man, around five foot five with hands that resembled paws more than anything. He was one of her business math professors that was a higher-up in the business school. Deep lines could be seen where his brow would crease and from his frowning. Though, she thought, in his defense, he frowned a lot when he was concentrating. He wasn’t a glum sort of man.

“Josh needs something; and more than a slap on the wrist. What if he had gone after someone other than me? We could potentially be dealing with rape instead of assault. I’m not comfortable with Josh parading around here with a badge of honor because his parents are donors to the university,” her voice matter of fact.  
“As for Connor…sir…I’m not one to presume what’s going through his head…maybe it was a bad day…maybe he’d been drinking and wasn’t thinking clearly…”

“Jennifer, don’t begin speculating because you’re trying to play devil’s advocate for the sake of politeness,” he crossed himself. “I want to know, point blank, what does Jennifer MacDougall, future alum of this university that received her award this weekend, would do to an employee with behavior such as this?”

Jen’s demeanor immediately grew cold and her voice steeled. “I would make the most violent and memorable example of him to vehemently express that the behavior exhibited is not tolerated at my company and that, should anyone dare to act in such a manner, they’d be writing their own pink-slip.”

“Atta-girl.” Grosso looked like a proud father. “That’s what I like to hear. Now…do you have your application for me?”

Jen fished out a small folder from her bag and handed it to her teacher. “Professor, I know I’ve already asked a lot of you and you’re putting your credibility on the line for me; but…I was hoping…”

“Yes?”

“…I want Chicago. I want to be better than good. I want to be one of the best. And Duquesne is in Chicago. Would you still be willing to make that phone call to Deputy Dean Kole?”

“Absolutely. Without question. In fact,” he picked up his office phone and began thumbing through his rolodex, “I’ll do it right now.”

“You don’t have to do it right this minute…”

He waved her off and pulled his wide-framed glasses off his face and rested his wrist on his hip. “Hello, Stacey; it’s Anthony Grosso calling. How are you?” he eyed Jen with warm eyes. “I’m glad to hear it. I know that you’re busy so I’ll be brief: Remember how, when we were at Rochester, we both agreed that when we had students that needed each other, we’d send them our way? I have a student that you need to have. She’s the one from the dinner. Yep…if I overnight her application to you tomorrow, will you look at it? I’m not asking you to admit her because I’m asking you to…I’d never do that. But would you look at her and see if she’s a fit at the Booth School? …That’s because I haven’t had a student like her I in over a decade. …Thanks, Stace… I owe you one. I’ll overnight it first thing in the morning.”

The phone was placed back on the receiver and he beamed down at his student. “Done and done. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I want you to take today off and rest up. I expect you at class tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be there, fifteen minutes early, like always.”

“Good. I’m off to go and speak to the provost and the president in the next hour. Go home, Jennifer. Get some rest. I’m very proud of you.”

 

“How was class?” she asked, standing at the stove cooking dinner.

_“It was fine. What’s for dinner?”_

“Just fine, huh? That’s very descriptive. As for dinner, I’m making some chicken scampi pasta thing…”

_“That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic.”_

She put the phone on the counter and turned it on speaker, “Well, I was holding the phone while cooking and was trying to not burn myself. But now you are sitting on the counter and I can talk without worrying about dropping my phone into a pot of water.”

_“I’m actually sitting at my desk.”_

“You aren’t really funny.”

_“You’re right. I’m hilarious.”_

“Keep telling yourself that if it helps you sleep at night. But, if you’re worried about my dinner, it’s turned out okay, I’m just waiting for the pasta to boil at this point.”

_“I didn’t know you could cook.”_

She flicked her wrist to flip the contents of her saucepan. “There’s still a good bit about me you don’t know. I could only do so much with my kitchenette at the hotel, you know.”

_“Hopefully you can show me and tell me more about what you can do that I don’t know about yet. Without me sound like a weird, creepy, stalker-type of guy…”_

“Oh, yeah,” she quipped sarcastically, “You’re only fifty percent a weird, creepy guy. So, you’ve got that going for you.”

_“Ouch.”_

“OH!” she nearly shouted, placing the pan down to lean over her phone. “Guess what?”

_“You’re joining a circus and you can now spit fire?”_

“How did you know?” she laughed. “No! I turned in my graduation application today and tomorrow morning, my portfolio and application to the University of Chicago is getting overnighted to the Deputy Dean of the MBA program!”

_“Really?”_ his voice excited. _“Jen, that’s amazing! I’m proud of you! How’d you manage that?”_

“Grosso,” she tucked her hair behind her ear. “He and Kole were in undergrad together and became really good friends. I didn’t even realize she was at the conference last week…and I inferred from Grosso’s conversation that she heard my speech at dinner…”

_“Then I’d say that the chances of you getting into that school are great!”_

“It’s getting sent really late…I’ll have to wait to see if I get accepted, but I have a list of phone calls I have to make this week, and…”

_“…you’re, uh…trailing off there, Miss MacDougall. I mean, I know I’m not deaf, but…you going to try and make good on that promise?_ ” he pushed.

She stood upright and tried to play nonchalant. “I mean, we’ll see what I can do. I am, after all, going to be _super_ busy doing stuff, you know.”

_“Stuff? Sounds serious.”_

“Oh…yeah…definitely. Well…I don’t want to brag or anything…there’s a guy I know in New York…pretty much has convinced me that I’m amazing and practically walk on water. So I’m rolling with that now…you could say I’ve made it to the big leagues,” she teased.  
_That’s what did it…me sarcastically poking fun at him and now he’s laughing. Good. I like his laugh. It makes me feel happy. Weird. Guess that means I’ll have to ensure more laughter in his future._

_“Alright…alright…that guy does sound a bit like a tool_.”

She began playing her food and moved to her couch. “See? We agree. Tool or not, I’ll still talk to you, I guess.”

_“Hey, enjoy your dinner. I can hear Foggy coming up the stairs with whatever in he’s making tonight…which means it’s going to get loud in here. He’s on a roll lately with singing as he cooks.”_

She pursed her lips, “But can he sing?”

_“I mean…I’m no singer, but...it sounds like a cat trying to yodel loudly…so…_ ”

She began laughing, tears forming in her eyes. “That is the best visual ever! Oh, God; that man needs to learn how to sing. Remind me the next time I’m out I’ll teach him some basics.”

_“You sing? Since when?”_

“Patience, young grasshopper. All in good time. I’ll call you in a few days. Get your homework done and no skipping class.”

_“Yes, ma’am!”_

“It only counts if you salute.”

He chuckled, _“If I salute, I’m going to hit myself in the face and knock myself unconscious. Want that on your conscience?”_

“Eh…yeah, that’s fine. I’ll live. Goodnight.”

_“Night, Jen.”_

 

 

_Friday Afternoon_

Jen’s last class of the afternoon finished at three and headed back to her apartment to stuff her backpack with the essentials she was going to need for the weekend.

Her phone rang and she answered without looking at the called ID. “Hello? This is Jen MacDougall.”

_“Jennifer! Wonderful. Mike Duquesne. Am I calling at a bad time? Do you have some time to talk?”_

She tossed the idea of lying around and opted to continue to be honest. “I’m packing to go homeward for the weekend. My best friend’s birthday occurred while I was at conference, so I’m going home to have a belated hang out with him.”

_“That sounds wonderful, actually. Is it that Murdock fellow?”_

“No,” she allowed as her hands grabbed the wide envelope of cash and stuffed into a secret compartment of her bag. “He’s the New Yorker and is at class presently. This gentleman has been my best friend since we were ten or so.”

He made an odd sound of recognition. _“I see now; got it. Well, I’ll be quick so you can get to traveling. Your professor and that grad assistant you brought with you to lunch called me this week stating that you’ve officially applied for graduation and that U of C has your application and portfolio on their desk. Is this true?”_

She stood and placed a hand on her waist. “Yes, Mr. Duquesne… as was the contingency for me to officially be hired by your company, was it not?”

_“Well, yes. But the reason for the call is this: do you know where you’re going to be living in Chicago? Have you given it any thought, should you get accepted?”_

“I’ve started looking around for apartments in the event that I can’t get housing, yes. But I don’t want to assume that I’ve been accepted and start looking now while getting my hopes up.”

_“Fair enough. Any thoughts about what you want to do after graduation? Any trips or plans?”_

“I’m thinking that, if I can swing it financially, I’d like to go back out to New York…for a week or so.”

She could hear his grin through the phone. _“I can’t imagine why. Good for you.”_

“It’s not like that…we aren’t an item. But it might be a while before I get a chance to go back and hang out with my two friends there…they’re both at Columbia…so, if I can I want to spend time with them.” She locked up her apartment quietly and headed to her car.

_“Tell you what…recently, my company acquired a property in Soho because we have deals in motion to acquire a property there for another restaurant. The apartment is going to be used for staff members that are transitioning to New York, see? Most of my restaurants have people relocating from all over the world to work at them and here in Chicago, I own properties that I’ve rented out to new employees as they move to the area. I not only want them to move and work for me…but I want them to have piece of mind as well.”  
“In any case, the property is absolutely barebones… It needs to have some semblance of interior design to it. You can use it while you’re in New York if you create a design portfolio for it and…if I pick it…you help make sure that all the work is done efficiently while you’re out there and I’ll let you use it for free.”_

“You’re serious?” her disbelief apparent. She got onto the highway and headed east.

_“Very. When the properties aren’t in use, we rent them out through AirBnB and such so that they act as an auxiliary source of income…but I have work in June that I need to get done here in Chicago. I’m looking at is as killing two birds with one stone. I might need you to go out for a long weekend in July to make sure that finishes are done correctly…but, sure…why the hell not?”_

“I mean…that’d be awesome…but why? That’s risking a bit on someone that you hardly know and what not, isn’t it?”

_“Maybe. I’ve done it a lot with good prospects out here in Chicago. I have four properties out here and have had strong employees do the interior design for three of them. I find that it says a lot about what aesthetic my employees gravitate towards and as long as you solemnly promise not to break my budget, consider it a project. I did, after all, sign you to my company…technically speaking.”_

She gave it some serious thought as she maneuvered along the highway. “Alright, I’ll give it a shot. Send me the blueprint or layout, some pictures…if it means I could have a place to stay…I’ll definitely give it a try.”

_“Good. Glad to hear it. Have a good weekend. If you have any questions about Chicago, don’t be a stranger, feel free to give me a call. Glad to have you aboard.”_

“Thank you, sir.”

 

“Absolutely not,” Jen hissed, shoving the envelope back into Mr. Bonner’s hands. “You will take it and you’re not going to say a word about to Dom. You know that he doesn’t want me fighting…but…what’s done is done. I did what I did and I am absolutely not going to apologize for it.”

“Mac, I can’t! All this money! You earned it!”

Her face grew stern and her jaw was set on edge. “Listen here, Mr. Bonner: You’re the closest thing to a dad that I’ve had since I was a kid… closest thing to a parent, really… and – and you got into trouble and I did what I knew how to do to get you outta that trouble. I didn’t get hurt. And,” she opened the envelope for him to see its contents, “there’s enough here for you to replace the money that was stolen, put money back into your retirement, and start a savings or trust fund for JJ.”  
“I love you and I wasn’t just going to stand by and let that scumbag ruin you. So…yeah…you keep it. I’m okay.”

“Mac,” tears welled in his eyes as his voice cracked.

She nodded and wrapped him in a warm embrace. “Yeah. I know. It’s alright. I’ll be okay. Just don’t tell your son. Okay? That’s the deal.”

 

_Middle of March_

“Alright, alright…here it goes…you two there?” Jen asked, nervously holding an envelope from the University of Chicago. Dom sat beside her with JJ at his shoulder while Melissa and her parents were out for a family dinner.

Her phone sat on the coffee table and two voice blared over the speaker. _“Yeah! Me and Matt are both here. We can hear you. Come on! Open the letter!”  
“Regardless,”_ Matt affirmed, _“We’re proud of you either way.”_

“Yeah,” Dom agreed, gently pushing against her arm. “Proud of you, beastie.”

“Okay,” she blew air out of her cheeks. “Here we go.”  
“ ‘ _Miss Jennifer MacDougal’_ :”  
_“ ‘It is with great delight that I inform you that the Committee of Admissions has admitted you to the Booth School of Business at the University of Chicago. Please accept my personal congratulations for your outstanding achievements._ ”

Then there was a lot of whooping, hollering, and all-around excitement happening on both ends of the phone call. Foggy and Matt were cheering and toasting with beer while Dom and Jen leapt up and bounced around her living room with baby JJ in the mix.

She continued to read, “ _‘I also have the privilege to inform you that you have been selected for the Distinguished Fellowship based on your merits in leadership. You have many of the qualities necessary as stated by its criteria for potential students to make meaningful marks on the Booth community and the business world’.”  
“ ‘This is a full tuition fellowship and you will also receive a stipend to help aid in costs for your schooling. In addition, you will also have mentorship from Harry L. Davis, the Distinguished Professor of Creative Management. I am certain that you will make a positive impact on society and I take great pleasure at being the one to inform you of our school’s decision on your admittance’.”  
“ ‘On a more personal note, I am excited to have you join the ranks of our school. Your GRE scores and percentile rankings were rather impressive’.”  
“ ‘Welcome to the Chicago Booth School of Business, Miss MacDougal. I look forward to seeing you in September. Signed Stacey Kole, Deputy Dean’.”  
_“Oh my God…I’m going to grad school!” Then the full realization hit her. “Oh my God! _I’m going to grad school_. I have so much work to get done between now and then and…”

“Mac, you’re going to be fine,” Dom consoled, sitting her back down on the couch.

_“Yeah! And with us for additional moral support, you’re going to be unstoppable!”_ Foggy cheered.

Matt could be heard laughing in the background. “ _You’re going to be great! Congratulations. You’re amazing. What did you end up scoring on the GRE?_ ”

“Uh,” she stammered, trying to remember. “It was high…like…a one sixty-six on verbal and a one sixty-eight on quantitative. I don’t remember my writing, but I was told it was really good.”

_“Holy shit, Mac!”_ Foggy gasped. _“That’s…like…insane!”_

“That’s what I’ve been told,” she nodded, stunned and slightly numb from the shock. “I have so much work I need to do…holy shit…”

_“You’re going to be just fine, I promise,”_ Matt assured, his voice reaching out to her. _“You’ve got this. You’ve got plenty of time and everything will work out the way it needs to.”_

 

Later that night, Matt called her back to make sure that she wasn’t stewing on the amount of work or potential nervousness concerning the next chapter in her life.  
He sat at his desk, phone pressed to his ear as Foggy slept soundly. It rang once, twice; and then the call connected.

“ _Hey.”_

“You okay?” his voice soft.

“ _Yeah. I think so. Still kind of amazed they took me after my application was sent so late, you know?”_

Murdock nodded, getting up to check that the front door was locked for the night. “They would have been crazy not to, Jen. And I know I said it earlier, but…I really am proud of you. You bust your ass at school and in your community. You’re doing good things.”

_“Thanks,”_ her bashful smile radiating in his ear. _“I called Grosso and Duquesne today after I got off the phone to let them know…called Mr. Bonner…Rachel…I just…didn’t think it was really going to happen…like…I’m good but not ‘that’ good.”_

“You don’t give yourself enough credit; but that’s okay. That’s what I’m here for.”

_“Good to know. What are you up to this late at night? It’s close to eleven thirty on a school night.”_

“I’m making sure the place is locked up and heading to bed, actually. What are you doing?”

She sighed, _“I’m laying in bed, head on my pillow, with my phone balancing on the other side of my face so that I don’t have to hold it because…you know…first world problems.”_

He snorted and made his way to his room. “That’s rather impressive. I’ll have to make sure you add that to your resume later.”

_“Ha, ha,”_ a yawn interrupted her dialogue. _“Oh, now that it’s quiet, I can tell you. I almost forgot. I have news.”_

Matt slid into bed and drew the covers up to his stomach, stuffing a hand behind his head while the other kept his phone to his ear. “Oh? News? You mean, there’s more than grad school news? That’s exciting. Lemme hear it.”

_“When I talked to Duquesne today, he said that he liked the design I put together for his loft in Soho…looks like I have a place to stay for a visit, just in case Foggy doesn’t go home,”_ she yawned again, her voice becoming more raspy from fatigue. _“So now all bases are covered. They start procurement of supplies next week and will start the gritty stuff in April. I’m going to come visit in June.”_

His lids opened and closed lazily, his eyes not focusing on anything in particular even though the rest of him was doing its best to reach out to her through the phone; focusing on what details he could hear through the earpiece.  
“Hmm. The way you described it, I think it’ll be pretty nice as a interim sort of housing…plus the space to put personal effects and such…nice touch.”

_“You sound tired,”_ she observed. He could only guess that she’d closed her eyes and was trying to focus on his voice more acutely. He knew from the way she was talking that she’d be out cold in the next ten minutes or so.

“Yeah, a bit. But that’s okay. So are you. I’m going to stay on the phone until you fall asleep again.”

_“Hmm,”_ she mumbled incoherently. _“That’s nice of you._ ”

“Yeah,” Murdock felt the corners of his mouth lift a little. “I can be a nice guy sometimes.”

_“Most of the time,”_ she corrected.

“Oh, right,” he nodded, his voice growing quieter. “I forgot. Most of the time. You’re right.”

_“Better write that down, Matthew,”_ she mumbled, her tone teasing.

“What’s that?”

_“That I’m right. I’m always right.”_

 

_May_

“You going to call her?” Foggy asked without looking up from his laptop.

“Nah. She said she’d call when she was done, man. I don’t want her to feel like I’m hovering or rushing her or whatever. She’s got things to do today. She’s going out with Dom and his family for dinner and whatnot after graduation.”

“When does she get here? And am I going to be in town for this?”

“Second week of June, so you’ve got a little over five weeks until then. I know you said you might go visit some distant family, and I’m not entirely sure how long she’s planning on being here. Jen said something about if having to do with the loft being finished on time…I’m sure she’s super busy…”

Foggy looked up over the edge of his screen to fins his best friend doing his best to act as casual as possible, but his face was betraying him. “Uh-huh. Cool.”

“Yeah.”

Foggy frowned in thought before he rolled his yes. “So…you going to call her?”

Murdock leaned forward and reached for his phone, “Yeah, I’m gonna call her.”

“Atta boy, Murdock.”

 

“Matt!” she whispered loudly. “I’m at graduation about ready to walk... Are you okay?”

_“Yeah…I just…wanted to talk to you…sorry. I’ll call back later…”_

“No, wait! Hang on,” she said hastily. “Now you get to walk with me. I’m putting you in my pocket…wait…just don’t hang up…listen!”

The announcer read off her name with gravitas, “Jennifer Elise MacDougal; summa cum laude.”  
Matt could hear her high heels clicking off the floor with every sure step that she took forward, people in the crowd cheering, and her voice cutting through all of it with words of thanks and appreciation to those on the stage as she shook their hands. He blinked slowly, relishing in the moment she was sharing with him and lamenting in a way that he couldn’t be there to support her. An odd but pleasant contentedness washed over him as he sat on the couch in his apartment.  
_Look at her go. She’s unstoppable now._

A rustle of fabric and a few choice swear words falling from her lips pulled him back out of his thoughts. “Matt?”

_“Yeah? Yeah…I’m – I’m here,”_ he stammered.

“I’m glad.”

_“Me, too. I’m glad I called.”_

She bit her bottom lip. “I’m going to see you soon.”

_“I know,_ ” he joked. _“Can’t say the same for me, but you know…perks of the disability._ ”

She shrugged, “I dunno. You seemed to see me just fine in February.”

_That’s the truth.  
_Matt groaned, “ _Not going to be letting that go anytime soon, are you?”_

“Nope,” she grinned. “Look…I’ve got to get off the phone. People are glaring. Apparently this is taboo. But I promise I’ll call later tonight, yeah?”

_“I look forward to it. I should be in for the rest of the night.”_

 

The air had gotten a little cooler against his skin indicating that it was late; the sun had set hours ago and the last remnants of its heat could now only be felt radiating up from the ground. Foggy had gone out to see his parents and Matt was puttering around the apartment before he made his rounds to ensure everything was locked for the night.

_“Jen. Jen. Jen. Jen,”_ his phone rang across the room. With relative ease, Matt hurdled the couch and leapt across the room to grab his it off the counter.

_“Told you I’d call.”_

“It was more like you promised you’d call,” he reminded. “How was dinner?”

_“Good, I think. Mr. Bonner drove me home as I am happily drunk. He – he insisted on tequila shots since Cinco de Mayo is close. I ate a lot of tacos. I like tacos. Hey, I graduated!_ ”

“I know,” he chuckled heading to bed. “What plans do you have tomorrow?”

_“I work for Grosso until the end of the month,”_ she shuffled around her apartment. _“I have to work at noon.”_

“Jen? I need you to listen to me for a second.”

_“Hmm?”_

“Go and lock your front door. Stop what you’re doing and go do that for me.”

She huffed air through her nose, annoyed, and blew her hair out of her face. _“Can’t I finish getting undressed first?”_

“No, no; I need you to go do the door first,” he coaxed. _Undressed? Come on, Jen…that’s not even fair._

_“Fine.”_ She stumbled over her shoes and made her way to the door and ensured it was locked. _“Happy?”_

“Happy enough,” he grumbled under his breath.  
“So,” he changed the subject, flopping onto his mattress, “Happily drunk, what do you want to talk about tonight? I could probably get all sorts of secrets out of you this way.”

_“You could -hic- try, but…”_ there was a thud in the background followed by her mild cursing and laughter, _“you won’t. I know you, Matthew Murdock.”_

His face scrunched up in surprise, “Oh yeah? You think so?”

_“Yeah,”_ she mumbled. Matt could hear her crawling up onto her mattress and rolling herself in her blankets. _“I think I do. You’re more -hic- charming to me in person…so you’d do that instead…yeah…”_

“Alright, Jennifer MacDougall, let me hear it: what do you think you know about me?” Her quiet, incessant giggling made him press further. “Come on, then, Miss Big Shot. What d’you got?”

_“Hmm. We’re a lot alike. We’re like – like mirrors of each other, you know? The same…but different...-hic-”_

Heavy lids closed around his eyes. “Uh-huh. That’s totally it. How did you guess? Those hiccups are rather adorable.”

_“Shuddup…And I think we both have demons that we try to hide. But that’s okay. You help me with mine; I’ll help you with yours. We’ve got each other. That’s good, right?”_

“Yeah, Jen,” he shoved his arm under his head. “Happy drunk you is very philosophical…and introspective. I’m just going to let you know that.”

_“Well, I have to be sometimes… -hic- you don’t tell me what you’re thinking all the time.”_

“It’s safer that way, Jen. Sometimes it’s a scary place up there,” he deflected.

_“So? I’ll help. I’m a helper. You love me, I love you; whatever parts of us they are…it’s how this works, you know?”_

Despite everything telling him to ignore what she said because she was drunk, a part of his heart latched onto those seven words and ran with them to the secret place within his soul where he kept memories that were precious to him. It didn’t matter if he never heard her say those words ever again or if she really meant them to their fullest intent. Today, Jen admitted that part of her loved him as he was, knowing that he was conflicted and not knowing his entire past. Today, he realized that some part of him cared deeply enough for her that he thought he loved something of her, too.

“Yeah. I do.”

_“See? I knew it.”_

“What’s that, hmm?” his voice husky with fatigue.

Jen’s smile could be felt through the phone. _“I found you.”_

“Guess you did.”

_“Will you stay with me until I fall asleep? I’m afraid of the bad dreams again.”_

Matt heaved a long, weighted sigh and nodded against his pillow. “Of course I will.”

_“Matt?”_

He huffed a small laugh, “Hmm?”

Fabric rustled near the receiver. _“Will you hold my hand? It’s on your side of the bed.”_

_My damn heart, Jennifer._ “Yeah…I’ve got you,” he reached across his empty bed for her. “It’s okay. Go to sleep. I’ve got you.”

 

_June_

“I leave Friday around noon, sir,” Jen informed her new boss. “How long do you want me at the loft, exactly?”

_“Until you feel the project is completed. You could be there through the Fourth of July depending on whether the finishes get done on time. But I trust you to make logical and common sensical decisions while you’re there. From the photographs we’ve been sent from the project lead, flooring and paint is done and coming along nicely.”_

“Agreed. The lead called Monday to let me know how things were progressing with a video tour.”

_“And how is the apartment search going for Chicago?”_

Jen’s voice conveyed her slight dismay. “Not so great, Mr. Duquesne…I had a place, but it fell through already.”

_“That’s a shame. While on the topic, I have a proposition for you._ ”

“I’m listening.”

_“I own a few properties around the city that I rent out; I’ve done so since before my business became what it is today. One of the properties is a twenty minute walk away from the Booth School of Business and passes by a really nice coffee shop.”_

“How much would rent be,” she asked, genuinely interested.

_“Don’t you want to know what it looks like?”_

“I mean, I’m sure it’s a gorgeous; but after speaking with you and getting to know you, I doubt you’re a slum lord, Mr. Duquesne. Plus working for you on the loft project has been insightful.”

_“Straight to business then. Alright. At present, I have it listed for sixteen hundred a month plus utilities._ ”

She nodded, feeling her heart sink into her stomach. “Mr. Duquesne, I appreciate it, though I have to let you know that’s a bit out of my range. I’m currently paying half of that for my apartment. I understand that’s the difference between Columbus and Chicago; but I may have to seek room and board from the university.”

_“I thought that might be a hitch. Here’s where the proposition comes into play: I’ll let you have that unit for eight hundred dollars a month, plus utilities…pending you keep your grades up and you work for me on weekends. Learning the behind-the-scenes work of my company.”_

“And what about hours?”

_“You can make your own. How about you come out to Chicago in the beginning of September. I know school doesn’t start until October; that’ll give you a month to get acclimated and I can introduce you to the people at the office and at our flagship restaurant.”_

She nodded, “Introductions so I’m not viewed as suspicious as I come and go?”

_“Not exactly the reason I was thinking, but if that’s what helps you decide to move out a few weeks early, then go for it.”_

“Mr. Duquesne…”

_“…you can call me Mike…”_

“Thanks, I’ll see you at the beginning of September; I’ll take the property. I’ll video conference you once I get the WiFi and whatnot set up at the loft over the weekend. When do you want the deposit?”


	10. Reconditioned

_Friday_

“As you can see, the remodel has been successful and we are now waiting for the cabinets to be delivered, the waterfall countertop for the island, light fixtures…”

“Exposing the beams in the ceiling works really well with the space; kudos to you and your team for the work you’ve done on it,” Jen admired with her eyes gazing upward. “How has the bathroom come along?”

“That slab of stone you had us install was a real piece of work, but I have to hand it to you, Miss Jen,” the contractor guided her to the finished bathroom, “You have an eye for it, that’s for sure. Between the tile and the fixtures you chose, this place could easily go for eleven thousand a month.”

The black and white stone resembled woodgrain and was used as an accent wall; and, Duquesne’s contractor had been able to flesh two pieces of it to create a mirrored but continuous image across the wall’s entirety. A white, double vanity with a brown concrete top complimented the large, white, subway tiles on the other walls and ceiling with a beautiful sandstone on the floor.

“Thanks. Duquesne’s the one that gave the go-ahead and it’s his money, to be fair.” She peered to the left, “Steam shower is on the opposite wall of the rain shower, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And when is the glass getting here?”

“We were told today,” his hands on his waist while he looked over the space. “I’ll have one of my guys call the supplier and see what the holdup is.”

“Wonderful. Now, did Duquesne tell you that I would be staying here for the next few weeks?”

He nodded and motioned for her to follow him out into the common area. “Yeah. He did. There’s an air mattress against the wall he had delivered for you and the pump is beside it. The real bed should get here in a week.”  
“The closet locks, so you can keep your belongings in there without worrying about anyone getting’ into them. Duquesne also sent over some Japanese folding curtains in the event you wanted to section off the bedroom for privacy.”

Her dark tresses bounced off her shoulders when she nodded. “Thank you. I’ll drop my things off and get out of your hair. I have a few meetings to go to and I have plans this evening. I’ll be sure to let Duquesne know about the progress. Keep up the good work.”

 

Matt hadn’t heard much from Jen since she had announced that she had landed. When she called, she told him that she had meetings with various contractors and was going to try and set up internet in the space so that she could video call her boss. In order to kill time, he’d gone to the library and checked out a few books to read over the summer before heading back to the apartment. If she didn’t call within the hour, he was going to assume she was held up and would call her later when he felt she’d be getting ready for bed.

Knowing that she was somewhere in his city was causing an odd sense of relief and anxiety. He wanted to talk to her and to know that she was fine. Selfishness, he pondered, was a driving force behind those thoughts: being near her changed something in him and he liked it.  
_I feel like I can take on anything when she talks to me…and when she’s near me, at first it feels like a calmness…but…there’s something else…Elektra made me feel alive; but this is different. Jen does something else and I don’t know how to explain it or what it is…but I know I want more of it._

The sun had finally set and the air still smelled of fresh cut grass; the grounds crew having taken meticulous care of Columbia’s manicured grass spaces at dusk. Dampness clung against his skin, the humidity rising as usual for the time of year. His cane tapped in time with his steps along the concrete paths to the sidewalk. Twenty or so feet behind him, someone was singing quietly to themselves with one earbud in and the other sitting on their shoulder.

“In the mornin’ I get up and I try to feel alive but I can’t. Every time I look at you I go blind,” they sang with gravel in their voice, more than likely trying to emulate the singer of the song.

Matt sighed, annoyed, but kept walking, listening back behind him. No doubt a co-ed from school was absentmindedly singing and out for a walk. The irony in the matter was in the selection of song causing him to chuckle to himself. Matt slowed his pace to listen and hopefully get a better idea of the woman walking past that had an affinity for nineties music.

“Every time I look at you, I go blind. I go blind!  Well, somewhere over there, there’s a purpose, there’s a care for free…In me there’s no body, no one plan, no one stand to be free…” her voice was getting louder.

_Five-seven…no…five eight…strong gait…lean. Decent voice, actually…vanilla in the conditioner…spices in the soap, like cinnamon, amber, fruit, vanilla, musks…wait…no! She’s here!_

“Hold me, hold me; ‘cause I wanna get higher and higher…”

He stopped walking as the mystery woman passed him, her body turning around to face him as she continued to walk backwards. _Denim shorts, t-shirt, backpack…wallet, clothes, toothpaste…_

“Come on, Murdock,” the voice jeered while the person it belonged to quit singing and used their regular tone; specifically an important voice he’d been waiting to hear all day.  
“I thought it was hysterical. _Blinded by the Light_ seemed a little cliché, to be fair.”

His lips pinched together at the side of his face while he did his best to appear upset at the taste of her joke. Despite every effort to appear upset, Matt Murdock had to throw his head back and laugh.

“You know,” a few steps in his direction, she stuffed her hands into her pockets. “When you laugh and you mean it, you have creases in the corners of your eyes that I can see from behind your glasses. So you’re not _really_ that mad. Or disappointed.”

“How’d you know I was going to be here, Jen?”

She shrugged. “I put a LoJack in your cane back in February.”

“You did what?” his brows shooting up in surprise.

“Just kidding; Foggy told me,” she smiled. “And he only told me after I promised that I would crack an absolutely tasteless joke at your expense if I surprised you.”

“Remind me to never speak to Foggy again,” he teased. “And you! That was…the worst!”

Her lips pressed onto a skeptical frown, “Oh…the worst…well, I can go back to Ohio if you prefer…”

“…that’s not what I said,” he corrected.

“Did you miss me?”

“No,” he smirked, his head turned in her direction. “Not at all.”

She nodded and dropped her bag on the ground. “Thought so.”

A radiant smile beamed back at her. Jen ran and closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his torso.

“Welcome back,” Matt embraced her, his limbs pressing her against him. “When did your meeting finish up?”

Jen bent down to shoulder her bag and gave Matt her arm. “About an hour ago. I’ve been sitting outside for half an hour waiting for you to leave the library.”

“Dedication. Wow. I feel honored,” he touched his chest.

“So, Mr. Murdock, are you hungry?”

“Starving, actually. I haven’t eaten dinner yet.”

“Awesome. Let’s go,” she led them across the street and down the block.

“I thought you said that you had plans tonight?”

“I do,” she admitted, her hand patted his fingers on her arm. “This. You. I made sure to budget my time today so that I could see you.”

“Wait, really?” his head leaned down to hers.

Her eyes searched his face, confused by his sense of disbelief and surprise. “Really,” she led. “Part of the surprise. I mean, I know I have to do some work while I’m out here, but that’s not why I’m here. Mr. Duquesne is very aware of that.”  
“So, If you’re done with the self-doubt, I have a mission to do and you’re really killing my vibe.”

“Mission? What mission? Are you a super spy and didn’t tell me?”

“You don’t know,” she teased, making a left down the street. “We need to find dinner.”

“Do you even know where you’re going?”

“Nope. That’s part of the mission. It’s an adventure.”

“You don’t know where you are and you’re leading a blindman through the city,” amusement echoing in his voice.

The corner of her mouth ticked upward into a one-sided smirk. “I’m here… where I need to be right now. So, we’re going to get dinner, I’m thinking take-out…and then we’ll see where my feet take us.”  
“Trust me?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

 

The two friends sat in the middle of the hardwood floor amongst boxes of unopened furniture and fixtures for the loft with their open box of pizza between them. The faint smell of paint and sawdust lingered in the air and the floorboards felt cool under his legs.

“So, all these boxes have stuff in them?” _Well, no shit, Sherlock; of course they do. Way to suck at making small talk._

“Yeah,” a hand covered her mouth full of pizza. “I’m thinking of making a fort with the empty boxes later.” Jen wiped her mouth on the back of her arm and peered about the room. “I think it’ll be cool once it’s done. Not one hundred percent my style, but it’ll be nice for visits and such.”

“But Duquesne’s impressed, so that’s something.”

“I guess so.” With effort, she stood, grabbed their paper plates and tossed them into the trash, stowing the remaining pizza away in the corner. “He’s started paying me for the work I’m doing; I get to make my own hours and he doesn’t get mad when I can only work five hours a week.”

“Based on what I know from meeting him and what you’ve told me, I’m not surprised; and, I don’t doubt that you’re not working your ass off for him when you do work. Just be careful you don’t burn yourself out.”

“I’ll try my best not to. Duquesne doesn’t want me to do that either. At least through the summer, it’ll get me acquainted with his software and systems before I start getting into bookwork.” The pump for the air mattress went quiet indicating that her sleep accommodations were ready. She disappeared behind her folding curtains and disconnected the device, replacing the plug in the mattress.

When she returned, Matt was leaning against the painted brick wall, his hands on either side of him pressed onto the floor. A single bulb near the front door cast the only light into the open room, a ghostly incandescence dimly illuminating the room. It almost didn’t do anything, really. She had thought about turning it off before she’d gone into the _bedroom,_ but she realized that she would have missed out on this moment.  
The form and lines of his face looked like they had been brushed with pastels of gray, highlighting his silhouette. He looked like a painting that she’d seen in a museum.

_You know the one: the man sits in the dark on a throne of gold while his face is both in light and shadow…the highlight coming from an unknown source out of sight to convey pensiveness, inner-conflict…strength, weakness…longing…but this painting…it’s more personal… It’s mine and I’m the only one here to appreciate it or see it…  
The part in his hair, the lazy way that he blinks, how his head pivots around to listen to the world about him, the quip of his brow…how his tongue sweeps across his bottom lip when he’s thinking, the micro-expressions his face shows; the manner in which his chest gives way when he breathes…_

“What’s wrong?” his voice quietly interrupted her thoughts.

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned a shoulder onto the wall, eyes gazing down at him. “What do you see?”

“Well…” he heaved a sigh, “I could feel you walking along the floor…the floorboards give way a little…the vibrations got stronger when you walked closer... Your shorts rustle when you walk…helps me figure out how far away you are… I just, I guess, have a sense for where you are when you’re near.”

“Hmm,” she nodded before padding over the switch plate to kill the light. Her feet carried her back to the where Murdock was sitting and she sat in front of him.

“What do you see?”

“It’s dark now, but the walls are white…and there’s a little light bleeding in through the back window in the living room from the streetlight. The light’s bouncing around…I can see the edges of things, barely…until my eyes adjust.”

“You’re a little better than me,” he laughed. “Blind leading the blind, and all. Not really helpful if there’s a fire.”  
“Now for the million dollar question: what were you thinking?” Fingertips brushed against the back of her hand, lingering in their place when she didn’t pull away.

“Just thinking,” she offered. “Thinking about art.”

“Art?”

“Yeah. I’m going to need to get some things for the walls eventually. But that’s for later.”

“Art,” he reiterated. “We walked all over the city looking for food, brought pizza back to your loft, talked about dominating the world and making a fort out of boxes and you got eerily quiet because you were thinking about _art_?”

Her voice was nearly a whisper and the smile he was able to entice regularly onto her face reappeared. “Yeah. Something like that.”

“Grad school has made you weirder…more elitist.”

“Your harsh words have no effect on me, Murdock,” her voice light. “I’m sticking by what I said. Sometimes thoughts are just that…thoughts. For me. Or for you. And they just need to stay there. Besides, I learned something today.”

“What’s that?”

“You can’t read minds with your supersonic bat hearing.”

A laugh rumbled in his chest. “You know it’s not that good…and that’s not how it works. But I’m glad you think I’m some sort of creepy superhero that can hear a squirrel take a dump in a tree a mile away.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told that.”

She grew quiet again, her thoughts now drifting toward her brother. Up until a week ago, she hadn’t really spoken to him in over three years. Her mother had done a decent job of turning him against her despite the pair of them being exceptionally close as kids.  
“I, uh…talked to Danny…last week,” her head fell and her unattended hand rubbed the back of her neck.

“How’d it go?”

A weighted sigh that would have made Atlas proud escaped her lips. “He hates me; thoroughly, I think. My mother’s done a bang up job twisting everything around on him…and he’s still young…he starts college in the fall.”  
“But…I – I left the address for the loft with him, told him he could come visit me if he wanted. He wasn’t paying attention to me at the time; was drawing a wolverine…he’s really into drawing right now… Says that the wolverine’s his favorite animal.”  
“But, he told me later he would consider it. He would call if he felt like visiting.”

“That’s good, right?” he leaned forward. “It – it could give you a chance to show him who you are without your mother interfering. If you need space, you know…uh…should he come out here, just let me know.”

“You’re not a problem, Matt…but thank you, you know…for thinking about it. It means a lot.” She could sense his face was less than an inch from hers and she bent her head forward, her forehead gently pressing against his.  
“I just want to be a good person, you know? I know I’m a mess, but Danny’s important. He doesn’t know any better at this point.”

“You are a good person and hopefully, he’ll see that sooner rather than later.”  
“Not to change the subject,” he stood up, pulling her upward, “but you sound exhausted. I think it’s time you went to sleep.”

“I haven’t been sleeping, really.”

“Nightmares?”

“Yeah…they’re frequent and they have started using the ambient sounds around me when I’m sleeping…like my mind’s confused about the when or where…makes it terrifying when I wake up and hear those same sounds…the doctor doesn’t want to prescribe anything yet…wants me to try and work through it first.”

“That settles that then,” a finality rang in his words. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

There was concern in his face, his brows knitting together and his jaw set firm. “I know you won’t,” she whispered. “I know.”  
Her thumb brushed over his knuckles and noted that they felt thicker with callouses and scarring compared to how they had felt in February. He attempted to pull his hand away, but her light grasp didn’t allow him much leeway.

His head turned away in embarrassment and his body language became aloof and standoffish. A disapproving sound sat in the back of his throat, readying to defend himself from her chastising. However, she patted the center of his chest instead. Matt turned back to face her, confusion scrawled on his face.

“It’s okay…I know…I’m not…I’m not here to tell you how to live your life…whatever it is that makes you angry…or sad…or – or even happy…I can’t…I won’t…ever judge you for it… Just, promise me something, yeah?” His head bowed in agreement.  
“When it gets heavy…too heavy to do it alone…you’ll talk me about it. I’ll listen; whatever it is. Because…that feeling…it gets heavier…until…it needs to get out…and – and I know what that feels like…”  
“And – and if you’ve got me, then I’m not going to let anything get to you, either. As best as I’m able.”

 

Inhalation and exhalation, rhythmically repetitive and in time, were the most prominent pieces of evidence that Jen was at peace, sound asleep. She had started on the opposite side of the mattress. Over the course of an hour and a half, Jen had rolled her way over to him and latched her torso to his, her head sitting comfortably on his chest and her arm draped over his stomach. He was left to wonder how she was able to function the rest of the year when he wasn’t around. The perpetual state of exhaustion she must have felt versus the energy and enthusiasm she showed must be tearing her apart.

Matt envied her a little: she was sound asleep with nothing in the world to bother her and normally, he’d be right there with her. Some of the best sleep he got happened when she was around. But tonight was different: when she talked about her nightmares seeming more real, it struck home with him. He had those kinds of dreams where his mind would start interpreting the sounds around him and using them to influence his dreamscape. It was terrifying to not always be able to tell which reality was real.  
A hand sat atop her arm and the other was wrapped behind her resting innocently at the indentation of her waist,  and he gave her a light embrace trying his best not to wake her.

Thoughts of his childhood surfaced in the stillness of the night: his life with his father, time at the orphanage, Stick leaving him; the hurdles he had to jump to grow up. Everything wanted to fall from his lips into her ear so that she would know him. Joys, pains, fears; secrets: he wanted her to know everything. That secret place in his soul throbbed, pining to have a tether to another human being the way it had with Elektra.   
Elektra was like him; she’d been trained to be a fighter and was intoxicating. Jen wasn’t; at least, she wasn’t addicting in the same way Elektra had been. Where his former love exposed him to darker parts of himself, throwing him uncomfortably into the world, Jen was shelter from the elements, building something to protect him from being hurt without coddling or making life easier. And something else.

_What would life have been like if I had her here growing up? What if she had me instead of Dominic for all those years? Where would I be at this point? Would I have even fallen for Elektra? Would I have wanted Jen instead? Or…if I did have her, would I have looked for Elektra anyway? I would have put that friendship to shit anyway… I ruin a lot of things… would I have ruined Jen, too?  
Why does it even matter? I can’t change the past. I don’t have that ability. I’m just a guy…who has some abilities…I don’t have super strength…or speed…Stick trained a fighter that can hear, smell, feel, and sense better than other people. I’m still just…me… And she doesn’t know all that, and she doesn’t care…it doesn’t matter to her. Who I am and how I got to be here…that’s what she cares about. And I want her to know that she’s safe…with me…but I can’t tell her that…_

_But…who am I? Who do I want to be? I mean, I want to be a good man. I want to help those who deserve it. I want to make the world better. Is that who I am? That’s the fundamental question, though… who I am…who we are…_

“ ’s okay,” the figure beside him whispered stirring slightly from sleep, her arm giving a light squeeze to his abdomen. “It’s okay. Go to sleep. It’s okay, Matthew. I’m here.”

His thumb brushed over her wrist and he sighed, eyes closing for the first time as a warmth washed over him; no doubt Jen’s doing in her own way.

_Who do I want to be for Jen? Who do I need to be for her?_

 

_Monday_

“Wait, are you serious?” Jen’s voice rang in the air of the Matt’s apartment. “You want to come out and visit?!”

_“I guess. Mom’s boring right now and going on this cleaning binge…so me coming out to New York is on the table. Like…what would we do?”_

“Danny, I’m so excited! What do you want to do? We can do touristy things or not, it’s up to you!”

_“Would you buy me beer?”_

“No, you’re underage, my man. Not gonna happen.”

A loud sigh hissed in her ear _. “Fine. Uh…I guess…stuff…I dunno. You’re the one that goes out there every year…what do you do?”_

 _Well, not one hundred percent who…I mean…what I want, but that’s not the point._ “I mean, I usually come out here to work. I have a couple friends out here that I hang with; but I’ve done some of the tourist things. I think the Statue of Liberty is fantastic and – oh! I loved going to see a show on Broadway, but that might not be your thing…last we really talked, you were into MMA, I could look to see if there’s a match or something…”

_“Okay…I’ll, uh…call you later today and tell you what day I can come out. Might be this week…”_

“I’m excited to see you, Danny. I’ve missed you, a lot. Mom hasn’t really let me talk to you since I got into college and I miss you. I love you. You’re my little brother and I’d do anything for you,” she spoke quickly.

 _“Yeah, yeah, yeah,”_ he grumbled _. “I’ll call you later.”_

The line went dead after her brother had hung up but her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. Her brother was willing to make the drive out to see her in New York while she was on vacation without their mother. Thoughts of sitting in a café somewhere talking about what they’d been up to in the past three years crossed her vision: her apologizing for not being the big sister that she should have been and Danny sitting there, digesting the information she’d given him.

It was peaceful hope; an olive branch for the potential of personal redemption. Matt told her repeatedly that things would start to get better, he had to believe and hope that they would. What if in the cosmic balance, this was the turning point and from now on things would start to look up?

She held her phone against her mouth trying to suppress the feeling her face was reflecting without looking like an idiot. _Not that it mattered. Matt doesn’t care if I look like and dumbass and he can’t see me, per se.  
_Her eyes shifted to the left to take note that Matt was smiling beside her having paused his reading for the time being. They had been in the middle of doing some reading and work in each other’s quiet company when Danny called.

“So,” Matt leaned into her side, “what are you going to do while he’s here?”

“Everything.”

 

Matt had been called by Sister Maggie to come by the orphanage to speak to the children. He would occasionally get these phone calls, usually aimed to convince the children that it was okay to be at Saint Agnes because you could still potentially make something of yourself when you got older. So far, none of the kids he’d spoken to had been as angry as he was…or as stubborn.

“I won’t be gone very long,” Matt grabbed his keys. “Just some errands I have to do.”

“Right,” her tone reflective of the eye roll Jen gave from the kitchen. “And it has nothing to do with the phone call you got…”

“Well, I could lie to you. But we both know I’d be in more trouble if I tried. I’m just going to Saint Agnes to do some of _God’s work_ ,” his fingers quipped air quotes, “for the kids that are down there. I’m the golden child. Sort of.”

“Well, I’m coming with you.”

“No, you – you really don’t have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything but pay taxes and die, technically…well…I could _not_ pay taxes and move to a country with nonextradition…” she rambled. “And if you think you’re going to convince me otherwise, then you have another thing coming. Besides, who’s going to protect you from the big bad guys of New York if you go alone while I’m holed up in your college apartment? Foggy would never forgive me and try to beat me up. We both know how that would go.”

Not usually at a loss for words, Matt shook his head resigning that she could be as stubborn as he was and motioned with his head for her to come along. She slipped her shoes on in a flash and the pair were on their way through the city to go to the orphanage.

 

Matt spoke quietly and answered some of their questions, including giving away a few of his choice hiding spots to get out of doing some of his chores. Jen stood off to the side and watched as Matt spoke with the kids; however, she noticed a girl no more than eleven or so looking very puzzled at what was going on. She was a cute enough kid: strawberry-blonde hair, freckles, green eyes and a ruddy complexion. What caught Jen’s attention was that the girl kept looking around at her peers with a sense of confusion.

Jen crept over and knelt next to her, whispering if she could hear what Matt was saying but the girl didn’t turn her head in her direction. Jen tried asking in Spanish if she understood that language instead, but there was no change.

“Comprenez-vouz le français?”

The little girl’s face turned toward her and she jumped with a start in her chair, startled. Jen pressed the question in French again, but the little girl kept shaking her head and began to gesture wildly.

Matt was keeping tabs on Jen and made a mental note to ask her how much Spanish and French she knew, and if there were any other languages that she could speak. _I mean…yeah…it’s kind of…hot…Stop it, Matt…you’re in a church. Sort of._

“Oh!” realization hit Jen quickly. She raised a finger and sat on the floor beside the girl, rubbing her forehead. _Jesus, I haven’t had to do this since I was a kid…okay…let’s see how much of this I remember…_

Jen waved, pointed to herself and swooshed her pinkie out, rested her fingers on her thumb, and placed her thumb between her ring and middle finger. The young girl smiled and moved her hands quickly. Jen didn’t catch everything and placed her finger tips below her left wrist and dragged her fingers partway up her arm before making a faux-fist and rubbing her right hand clockwise on her chest.  
_Sign language. Here we go._

“ _Slow. Sorry. Can read. Can’t sign good.”_

_“It’s okay; my name’s Tatum.”_

_“Question… okay…are you?”_

_“I’m confused. I didn’t know what he was talking about. Couldn’t read his lips fast enough.”_

Jen stared up at Matt who was now talking to a nun as the others played and nodded. She pointed at Matt and did her best to convey that he had grown up here and turned out okay; and, that he was trying to be a lawyer so that he could help people.

_“He can’t see us?”_

_“No.”_

_“He keeps looking this way. I think he sees us.”_

Jen did her best to hide a shy smile and she moved a lock of hair behind her ear with her left hand. Tatum grinned and pointed at Jen.  
“ _He sees you.”_

“ _Yes. I think he can.”_

Tatum brought her right hand to her forehead, tapping her fingers together and then moving to tap her forefingers together in front of her torso. Jen frowned, signing that she didn’t understand.

 _“B-O-Y-F-R-I-E-N-D_?” she spelled out for Jen.

“ _No.”_

_“Should be.”_

“That woman you brought with you, who is she?” Sister Maggie inquired with a skeptical brow and hands clasped before her. She had watched her interactions with Tatum for some time while Murdock was speaking to the rest of the children. At first glance, she appeared to be a normal individual; however, she knew that if Matthew Murdock had taken a liking to her she was far from ordinary. She’d have to be to deal with him.

He stood still, hands around his cane’s handle, and tried his best to act nonchalantly, “Her name’s Jen. She’s a friend of mine and is in town for a few weeks.”

“Uh-huh,” she replied flatly. “And did you find her or did she find you?”

“A little of both,” he divulged. “She’s a grad student from the University of Chicago; she’s on vacation and doing work for her future employer.”

The older nun nodded, her brow hidden beneath her habit. “Well, she seems to be getting along well with one of the young girls. They’ve been talking for a while..”  
“And… I don’t seem to recall you bringing anyone with you here before.”

He ignored her last comment. Matt had been able to sense their movement, but hadn’t really thought about it being anything other than a game they were playing back and forth. “I don’t hear anything.”

Sister Maggie’s smug grin and stoically Catholic tone oozed in her voice, “It appears she knows some sign language. And with the way Miss Tatum keeps looking this way, I would harbor a guess that they’re talking about you.”  
“Don’t be such a stranger, Matthew,” she advised, moving to go about her duties. “You can come around more often, you know. And who knows, maybe you can bring her with you next time. Tatum seems very taken with her.”

_“What’s his name?”_

_“M-A-R-R-…no…M-A-U-U…no…wait…M-A-T-T-H-E-W,”_ Jen signed, concentrating on trying to remember her alphabet correctly. “ _Or M-A-T-T.”_ She pointed at him as he walked over to the pair of them and she signed with an open hand, her middle finger lightly jabbing the middle of her chin. “ _Favorite.”_

Tatum looked up at him and nodded. Matt reached for the chair nearby as a guide and did his best to try and sound stern. “And what are you two up to? Sister Maggie seems to think that you’re talking about me.”

“Why would she think that,” Jen attempted to sound innocent. “Just because my friend Tatum kept looking at you,” she did her best to articulate well and face the child so that she could lip read, “doesn’t mean that we were talking about you, silly.”

 _“What does he sound like to you?”_ she giggled

Jen pondered a moment and brought her fingers and thumb together to touch the side of her cheek before moving it to touch a spot on her cheek closer to her ear.

“What’s she saying?”

“She just asked what you sounded like. So I told her.”

“That quickly you told her that I’m an ass?”

“Matthew,” she chastised with a swift smack to the shin. “You’re still in a church…kinda. Manners!”

He rolled his eyes, “Didn’t think you were one for doctrine.”

“It’s the principle of the matter,” she affirmed getting to her feet. “And no, I didn’t tell her that.”

“What did you tell her?” he pondered taking her arm.

Jen waved goodbye to the bright-eyed child, her sense of self contented for the evening. “It’s a secret.”

 

Matt had the taxi drop them off a few blocks from his apartment so that they could walk. He claimed that he needed to stretch his legs some after sitting most of the afternoon, which wasn’t a lie. What he omitted was that he enjoyed walking the city with her and that, little by little, he was trusting her enough to not have to _be on_ all of the time. He could take a few seconds here and there and be present in the moment with her instead of constantly mapping out where he was and what was around him.

“You don’t know everything,” she teased after he had schooled her on some sports trivia.

“Speaking of things I don’t know,” he playfully shoved himself into her side, “I didn’t know that you knew sign language.”

Her shoulders gave way into a shrug. “I taught myself some in elementary and middle school. Thought it might be helpful. I didn’t keep up on it, though…I forgot a lot of it. But…” her eyes swept over his features briefly as they continued to walk. “I was able to get the point across.”

“Do you know any other languages?” _Of course she does, asshole. Hopefully she never finds a way to tell when you’re bullshitting small talk._

“Enough to get by in French and Spanish. I got bored one summer and tried teaching myself Icelandic…that was weird…and I know a few words in Polish. But that’s about it. Not enough to be fluent, but enough to make very, very small chit-chat and be on my way.”  
“What about you?”

“I took Spanish.”

“Why?”

“Uh…because I thought…it’d be helpful.”

“Ahem,” she elbowed his side.

“Someone was in the class.”

“Was it a girl?”

His head bowed down, “Yeah.”

“You softy. That’s adorable that you’d take a class to be close to a girl.”

“I mean, Spanish has…has at least been helpful and useful since I took it…Foggy took Punjabi to be in the same class as a girl and I don’t think he remembers any of it,” he replied thoughtfully.

“Punjabi?”

“Yep.”

“W-wait…wait a second. This is too good,” she pulled out her phone and scrolled down for Foggy’s number.

“What are you doing? Wait! Don’t call him!”

_“Mac-a-roo! What’s up? Has Murdock bored you to death so much so that you’ve finally come to your senses and realized I’m the better of the two?”_

Her chest felt like it was going to explode from laughter at any second but she did her best to regulate her emotions while Matt kept swatting at her head to stop her from talking on the phone. She stiff-armed his face lightly and said, “Did you seriously take Punjabi just so that you could be in the same class as a girl?”

 _“What the hell are you two talking about? That’s it. That’s it,”_  his tone firm. _“I’m never talking to either one of you ever again. Why is he telling you these things? And…and! She was hot.”_

Jen lost her composure, bowling over as her body was racked with glee. “OH MY GOD! I would fucking hope she was hot! Punjabi? Dude…like…come on…say something in Punjabi!”

 _“I’m not going to dignify this with a reply,”_ he sniffed. _“You…just….put – put Matt on the phone. What a dick.”_

Tears were streaming down her face and she pressed her mobile device into her friend’s palm. “Wants…talk…you,” she wheezed.

“Yeah?” he smirked.

_“Can you, for like, I dunno, five minutes…make it so that Mac thinks I’m an intelligent human being? I got into Columbia, too, you know. And now she’s going to razz me from now until kingdom come about me taking Punjabi that first year. It’s a complex and intricate language!”_

“Y-yeah, man, sure is.”

_“And can you not divulge all of my secrets to her? I mean, this guy’s gotta have a little bit of mystery to him. I’m not blind like the Oh-so-charming-and-wounded-duck Matthew Murdock. I gotta actually work on my intrigue.”_

He huffed a snort, “You got it, man. It was an accident. Honest!”

“ _Uh-huh._ ”

“It was,” he defended, Jen roaring with another wave of laughter at his own expense. “I found out she knows sign language! And then we were talking and it just…fell out, man…I’m sorry.”

“That’s what she said!” she screeched, bracing on the brick wall nearby. “Oh, Christ…I can’t breathe!”

_“What’d she just ka-caw like a pterodactyl?”_

“She fired off a ‘That’s what she said’ in response to my previous comment. Very tasteless, Jen,” he chastised.

 _“And yet,”_ Foggy pondered a moment, “ _Still relative and funny. I’ll see you two tomorrow, right? She’s not going to bail on me because I took Punjabi to be in the same class as that hot girl, right?”_

“Nah,” he frowned quickly in jest. “I’ll make sure she shows up.”  
Matt handed her phone back and frowned. “You know, you just got me in trouble…and your phone buzzed…you got a notification.”

“You’ll live,” she crawled up the wall and wiped her eyes. “Oh my God. That was fantastic.”

“Don’t be so hard on him.” Even though he was trying to sound stern, he found that her laugh and the genuine mirth behind it was infectious and he had contracted her happiness.

“Oh, you think this was just about him?” Confusion washed down his face. “Oh…my good sir! I haven’t even started picking on you about this yet!”  
Jen peered down at her screen when trying to regain her composure and found a text from Danny.

 

_To: Jenny_

_Thursday aftrnoon._  
_Meet u @ the sphere thing_  
_@ battry prk._  
_3 pm?_

_To: Danny_

_You got it. I can’t wait to see you!_  
_Bring some walking shoes._

 

“What’s up?”

“My brother,” she pocketed her phone. “He’s going to get here Thursday afternoon!”

He grew still and silent, “When?”

She eyed him suspiciously, “Three. Meeting him at Battery Park near a sculpture. Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why? Matthew,” her leading tone gave a hint of warning.

“It’s a surprise,” he put his hands up quickly. “Nothing bad, I promise.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just did,” he responded flatly. “Be-besides,” he tried to sound resolute, “it’s a secret.” The pair continued to walk to his apartment talking quietly to each other shoulder to shoulder the rest of the way back.

After Matt had unlocked the front door and motioned for Jen to enter first, she politely tossed her things onto a small side table and flopped onto the couch, stretching out across the seat cushions. Matt followed his normal procedure of putting this wallet and keys aside, resting his cane near the door, and placing his shoes in the same place he had picked them up from.

“Tired?”

She huffed a snort through her nostrils, “No. Warm. It’s hot out.”

“It is summer, you know. That happens.” He shuffled into the kitchen and opened a door to the freezer, pulling out something that sounded like a plastic bag or two. Jen had draped her arm over her eyes and he could tell that she was straining to discern what he was doing.

“I just fully appreciate that you two have air conditioning. Mine’s supposed to get installed and hooked up tomorrow.”

“Does that mean you’d like to stay here tonight?”

“Pretty please?” she pouted, staring up at him. “I’ll even make breakfast! What do you have for breakfast?”

“Uh…yeah…I’ve got cereal…and…cereal.”

“Okay,” she teased. “Guess I’ll use my cooking prowess to make some cereal in the morning.”

“I’d sit up if I were you,” he warned. “Or I might sit on your head.”

Jen did so to make room for him and once he sat down, she rested the back of her head on his thigh while her hand pulled her wet shirt away from her chest. The air conditioning wasn’t exceedingly powerful, but it was a delight in comparison to the oppressive, humid, summer heat.  
Something suddenly dropped onto the bare skin revealed by her scooped neckline and she gasped at the cold sensation. Her eyes shot open and she held up the culprit for her mild fright: a small bag of ice.

A low, throaty chuckle rumbled in Matt’s chest. He placed his own bag behind his neck, his head tilting backward to hold it in place. A quick scowl flashed over her face before she reached up to poke him in his side. Matt jumped in his spot and Jen was pleased with the small yelp he gave in surprise.

Her bag of ice was placed precariously on her forehead and she shut her eyes, stretching her long legs out to rest on the arm of the couch. “Do you go to the orphanage very often?”

“Not really,” he admitted. “Not necessarily happy, fluffy memories of being there.”

“That’s fair,” her tone thoughtful. She rested a hand on her stomach and the other reached to rest atop her bag of ice. “I mean, I’m no poster boy for going home either. Just wondering.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he nodded. “We turned out to be fairly well-adjusted people, so there’s hope.”

“Ha,” her stomach bounced. “By well-adjusted, you mean having crippling doubt, guilt, and being overly sarcastic, right?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he smiled. “Can’t be too well-adjusted, otherwise people might actually think we know what we’re doing with our lives and we can’t have that.”

A heavy sigh whispered past her lips, “Oh, good. I was worried there for a second.”

They had begun to doze off in the quiet coolness of the apartment when Matt was able to sense heavy steps on the stair. _Foggy._ He didn’t move and was close enough to sleep that instead of clawing his way to lucidity, he allowed the calm dark to claim him. _What’s the worst that’ll happen?_

The distinct sound of a key sliding into place dragged Jen back toward reality and was relieved to hear Foggy’s inane humming as he entered the room. When he turned around and was able to see the scene on the couch his humming stopped and Jen swept a smile across her lips.

“Not a word, Mr. Nelson,” her tone husky in warning. “It’s been a long day.”

“Wasn’t going to say anything,” he affirmed still rooted to his spot by the door. “So what were you two up to today?”

Her eyes opened into slits and she heaved a weighted breath. “I went and did some sightseeing this morning after I had a video conference with Mr. Duquense concerning the loft. The air conditioning’s supposed to be installed tomorrow. I came by and made lunch, and we sat around and did some reading when Danny called. He’s coming out on Thursday.”

“Thursday? When?” he said a little too quickly, wearing his heart on his sleeve. The blond man moved into the kitchen to put some groceries away into the fridge.

A brow quirked up. “You know, Matt said the same thing…what are you two planning?”

“Something,” Foggy’s voice shook a little. “I mean…you could try to get it out of me…but it’s a surprise that Matt and I have been working on for a while…so I can’t spoil it. He’d kill me…it was his idea.”

“Uh-huh. Whatever. So there’s that…and then we went to Saint Agnes. He talked to some kids and then we came back to the apartment to relish in your amazing air conditioning. How was your day?”

“I hung out with my family enough to realize that I’m done hanging out with them for the rest of the summer,” his hands parted the air in emphasis. “So I’m one hundred percent available until further notice.”

“And the girl from your civics class…how’s that going?”

“If you must know,” he chuffed proudly, “I have a date on Friday night. Her name is Beth.”

“Good,” Jen sighed. “Scale of one to ten, what’s she sitting at?”

Foggy stood in front of her with his arms crossed “You know, I happen to like women for who they are and what’s in their minds.”

“Yeah, of course,” she nodded. “But is she hot?”

“Oh my God, she’s smokin’, Mac…like…hotter than hot,” he fell to his knees before popping a squat on the floor in front of the couch.

“Guess I should pray to the patron saint of cheeseburgers for you to get laid on Friday.”

“The what now?”

“Oh? Haven’t you heard? There’s a patron saint of cheeseburgers and I hear if you pray to him in times of bro-ly need, he can help a buddy in dire straits.”

“That sounds amazing. Who do I pray to?”

“Nah, man,” she teased, moving her icepack to the base of her neck without Matt stirring. “I’ve got a direct line of communication. I’ll hook you up like a tow truck. That’s what family’s for, right?”

“You’re the best,” he pointed at her. “You’re like…the best fairy godmother I could have ever asked for. Doesn’t get mad when I talk about how hot girls are, is willing to be a wingman, and will pray to Saint Cheeseburger on my behalf. Thank God that Matt Murdock stumbled across you in that bar. I won’t hold it against you that you don’t like baseball, though.”

“Imagine my shining and bubbly personality never coming to your life,” she chuckled, closing her eyes again. “You would be bored to death.”

“That’s the truth. But, that aside, I know that I said you could crash in my bed, so when you’re ready I’ll take the couch.”

“Nope,” she rested her hands back onto her stomach. “I’m not moving and when Stevie Wonder decides to wake up, I’ll get him to bed and come back to the couch…I am not putting you out of your own bed.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Plus, I really don’t want to get up at the moment…I just got comfortable.”

“He looks beat,” Foggy observed as he hoisted himself to his feet. “What was he up to today?”

“Dunno. He was already kind of tired when I got here; said that he was working out or something.”

Foggy shuffled into his room and nodded, “Yeah, he’s started working out. Well, I say working out…he goes to the gym and has someone teach him how to do certain exercises.”

“Hmm,” she mumbled to herself. “Interesting.”

 

_Tuesday_

Foggy was snoring loudly from his room, even with the door shut after he had fallen into a deep sleep. She knew that she wasn’t going to be falling asleep any time soon and the small bags of ice were completely melted. Gracefully, she hoisted herself to her feet and tossed the small bags in the trash. When Jen returned to the couch, she nudged Matt’s knee with her own.  
“Come on, hot shot: time for bed.”

“There is no way,” his voice cracked, “that I’m falling asleep as long as Foggy is snoring like that.”

Jen laughed quietly and sat back down on the couch as Matt readjusted into a new position with his head on the arm rest. Jen took her cue and mirrored him at her end; the pair fit awkwardly on the couch cushions.

“Does he always snore like this?”

Matt smirked and turned his head in her direction, “Oh, this is a good night. Sometimes, it’s worse.”

“Wow,” her voice raspy. “That’s impressive.”  
“So…sleeping at my place tomorrow?”

“Yes, please,” he nodded. “Air conditioning or not.”

“You got it,” she closed her eyes and nestled herself into the pillow, Matt’s hand resting peaceably on her shins.  
“Foggy brought groceries with him when he came in.”

“Oh?”

“Might be real breakfast-y things in there. I could go check.”

He wanted to protest and voice something along the lines of he was comfortable, she was comfortable, and that he didn’t want her to leave him; but instead grumbled something unintelligible when she rolled off the couch and padded into their small kitchen.  
When he heard the seal of the fridge break, he asked quietly, “I bet you ten dollars that he bought pie, beer, and some string cheese.”

“Creature of habit?”

Matt huffed a snort, “A little bit.”

Her body disappeared behind the door as she bent over for a moment. “You’d be right…but it’s not pie. It’s cake.”

A rather loud rumble broke the odd silence between Foggy’s snores. Jen’s hands clasped around her stomach and Matt propped himself up on his elbow.  
“Was that you?”

“Uh…maybe…did – did we eat dinner last night or did we just come back to your place and crash?”

Matt stood and stretched his arms to the ceiling. “Now that you mention it, I don’t think we did.”

Jen checked the time on the stove and groaned, “It’s already four in the morning. I’m not going back to sleep.”

His senses tracked her moving across the apartment and moving toward the door, the distinct sound of scuffling rubber soles across flooring cutting through the air.  
“I’m going with you.”

“You don’t have to, Matt. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself from the big bad world in the last breath of morning. I’m pretty sure that I spied a little twenty-four-hour bodega on the way here. It’s not that far.”

Matt grabbed his shoes and sat on the couch, tying his laces. “That’s not what I meant. I know you can handle yourself. What I meant by that was, I’m going with you because I want to. I want to be with you.”

When he moved to stand beside her, she looked up into his face crossing herself. “Matthew Murdock, are you sweet on me?”

“Y-yeah, yeah,” he stammered, reaching for his wallet and keys. “I thought that was already established?”

Jen handed him his cane and offered her arm to him. “Good. Come on. Let’s go get breakfast.”

 

It was close to five thirty by the time the pair had returned to his apartment. Jen had his keys in hand while he did his best to carry the numerous bags of food she’d purchased. As they walked around, neither one of them could decide what they wanted to eat, so Jen endeavored to make a little bit of this and that while buying things they would need for lunches and dinners the rest of the week.

Jen had ushered Matt into the shower while she cooked breakfast to keep him out of her way and got to work making bacon, sausage, eggs, toast, and pancakes as quickly and efficiently as possible; Jen wasn’t entirely sure how much the two guys would eat but she knew that she felt like she could eat a moose.

Matt emerged not long before the food was ready in a fresh outfit for the day and his glasses fixed on his face.  
“What can I do to help you?”

“Uh…plates and utensils, I suppose. I’m just about done.”

“Got it.”

Foggy’s door shot open with such violence that both Matt and Jen jumped out of their skins.  
“I’ve died and this is heaven. It has to be. Matthew. Michael. Murdock…has _never_ made such a delectable smelling breakfast in the entire time I’ve known that bastard. I can only guess,” he rounded the corner and genuflected in Jen’s direction, “That this angel is heaven sent and I’ve died.”

“Aww, Foggy, that’s so sweet,” she cooed, patting his face. “But even Lucifer was a fallen angel. We be demons here.”

“Then sign me up! If hell smells this good, I’m ready to go.”

“You may rise, Sir Foggy of Breakfastdom. It’s time to eat,” she grinned.

“Oh…my…sweet…Jesus…” Foggy groaned in awe. “Mac…please move in. Forget Chicago. I will pay you to make this food every week,” he mumbled with his mouth full.

Matt had taken a couple of bites and nodded in agreement, “Yeah-yeah! This is great! Where’d you learn to cook?”

“On my own,” she offered, making up her plate and hopping up onto the counter. “When I had some free time or – or I would have some weekends when I got my work done…I’d start teaching myself with some YouTube videos and stuff…see what I liked and didn’t like…I think it’s cool to know how to do stuff in the kitchen.”

Matt and Foggy leaned on the counter on either side of her, eating quickly and helping themselves to seconds without talking much. After a good twenty minutes, all three appetites were sated and they were conversing in the kitchen.

“I have to leave by seven thirty if I’m going to have time to get back to the loft to change for work,” Jen peered over to the stove and checked the time. “I’ve got about an hour before I have to leave, but if I want to shower and to look presentable, I should go sooner rather than later.”

Foggy had moved to straighten up the couch cushions and pillows when he got the urge to look over his shoulder at Matt and Jen. His best friend was standing incredibly close to her as she sat perched on their counter, his voice low and words snaking their way into her ear. Foggy had to shake his head when he spied Matt precariously placing his hand on Jen’s bare thigh and her smiling at him.  
_Oh. This is bad. I knew they were sweet on each other but…like…oh boy. This could go one of two ways…either they end up getting married or…not…and I’m not sure which is worse…or better._

“What time do you want me to come by and pick you up?”

“I’m not sure where this charming attitude came from,” she jabbed, “but you can come by at noon.”

Jen hopped off the counter and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before rounding the counter and grabbing her things.  
“Foggy,” she grabbed his arms and kissed his cheek. “Be good. I’ll see you for a late-ish lunch. You two finish what’s left in the skillet and don’t touch the sausages I bought,” she pointed to both of them. “They’re for dinner tomorrow night. No. Touchy.”

“Fine!” Foggy smirked.  
“Sure.”

“Swear it, both of you!”

“Y-yeah, I swear,” Matt stammered quickly in innocence.  
“Me, too!”

“Good. Oh, and Foggy? I prayed to Saint Cheeseburger for you,” her head bobbed. “See you two later.” In a quick flourish, Jen was out the door and on her way back to her loft.

“I saw that,” Foggy prodded.

Dazed, Matt shook his head and focused on reality. “What? She kissed me on the cheek!”

“Yeah, me too, buddy; but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about that super casual flirting thing that I saw while I was over here fixing the couch. The whispers and the touching. Dude…you two need to figure this out. And soon…because…because I am confused as hell over how to view whatever the two of you are.”  
“Have you slept with her? Is that what changed?”

“No! No, Foggy, no; we – we haven’t…no…it’s not like that.”

“Then what the hell is it, Matt? I mean, buddy, I’m all for you putting yourself out there like this again, but dude…you need to tell me what this is because…I like Mac. I like having her around and talking to her and you don’t necessarily have the greatest track record with women that weren’t your last serious girlfriend.”  
“So…what is it? What do you want from her, because you need to figure it out before something gets messed up.”

“I-I…I don’t, “ he stammered. “I don’t know. I don’t know, man. I just know that…that I need…I just…I don’t know.”  
“Why were you two talking about Saint Cheeseburger?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I just got done writing Chapter 16.
> 
> Oh. Boy.  
> Sorry not sorry when we all get to that together.
> 
> Happy early weekend, everyone!


	11. Nightmares & Lullabies

_Thursday_

Last night, Matt hadn’t come by the loft and it was the first night since she’d been in town that they hadn’t been near each other when she’d gone to sleep. She thought that she would be able to sleep well enough, but she woke early in the morning drenched in a cold sweat. It was some time after thee and she noted that it was fairly late in her sleep cycle to have the nightmares, but it persisted all the same.

Weariness pulled at her bones by the time she stumbled into the loft, kicking her heels across the floor. It had begun to rain out, which was a welcome relief to the obscenity that was New York humidity. Unfortunately, she was soaked through and wanted nothing more than to get in the steam shower now that it was functional.  
Jen had been in meetings with the real estate company, bank, and various other entities concerning potential properties that Duquesne was looking at purchasing for his new restaurant. So far, all of the places she’d gone to showed promise, but there was a large enough flaw with each space that either he or she noticed warranting Jen to keep looking and working. Stiffly she  walked to her phone charger and plugged in her phone, booting it up before she got undressed.

 _I should call Matt. I’m tired. Wait. That’s not fair…I can’t make him answer my bell because I’m tired. He’s probably asleep. It’s well after two…I can’t call now…lemme look at my phone…two calls with missed voicemails…texts…_  
Foggy wants me ready to go by ten thirty…Matt said the same in his text…one from Mr. Bonner? Oh…he wants me to double check the books when I get home. I can do that.  
Rachel? What does she want? Oh. Ha. Nope. Can’t tell her that because nothing’s happened between us. Oh…she’s bad. Tsk, tsk. I’ll have to call her soon to catch up.  
Now…the phone calls…Matt and…Matt.  
Her heart felt lighter in her chest. Jen pressed the phone to her ear and listened:

_“Message received Wedensday at eleven forty-three am:”  
“Uh. Hi. It’s Matt…I mean…I’m sure you know. Like…by my caller ID or my voice…uh…so yeah. Yeah, hi. I just wanted to see if you wanted lunch. I’d bring it to you if you’re at the loft or at some office building. You know…nobody suspects the blind guy trying to sneak into places. I can always pretend I’m lost. Yeah. Talk to you soon.”_

_“Message received Thursday at one twenty-four am:”  
“Hey. Just let me know you got home safe. Call me when you get in. I don’t care what time it is. I’ll be up. I haven’t had my dose of healthy snark nor have I been insulted today. So, yeah…Jen, just let me know you’re safe.”_

 

“Well, that answers my previous thought,” she mumbled out loud pressing the shortcut on her home screen to dial Matt.

_“Jen! Hey, are you okay?”_

“I’m fine. I’m sorry that I didn’t respond all day. My phone died from calling back and forth to Chicago and I didn’t bring my battery pack and I left my charger here like an idiot and I’m sorry that you were worried and…”

_“It’s okay, Jen. I – I just, got worried that something happened and then I focused on it…I’m not trying to be oppressive or anything…I’m sorry.”_

“It’s rather adorable, Matthew,” she admired.

_“Good to know it’s not coming off as creepy. I just…I don’t know. You’re here in my city and I just want to make sure you’re good and protected and stuff.”_

“And stuff? Very descriptive.”

_“You sound like you’re dead on your feet. Did you just get in?”_

She began unbuttoning her blouse and unzipping her skirt. “Yeah, I started working in his proxy office doing bookwork and lost track of time. On the plus side, my paycheck next week will be nice.”

_“Uh-huh, and how did you sleep last night?”_

“…”

 _“That’s what I thought. Jen, look, I don’t mind being with you while you’re here. I can guarantee nights of sound sleep without being weird about it. I worry about you not sleeping when you aren’t here and – and it’s something that I can do to help, sort of. Do you want me to come over?”_ his voice laden with concern.

“Of course I do,” she admitted a little too quickly. “Matt, I can’t justify you trekking down to SoHo because I want to sleep without nightmares at two in the morning. I can’t. That’s not fair. But, I’ll meet you half way.”  
“I’m getting a shower since I got caught in the rain. Would you feel better if I called you after and do what we do when I was in undergrad?”

_“You mean falling asleep on me over the phone?”_

“Yeah.”

_“Okay. For tonight. But tomorrow I’m going to be sure that I’m nearby so that you can sleep. I feel like a tool that I didn’t come over yesterday like I had said that I would.”_

“You lost track of time. But, you know, if you wear your watch, that doesn’t happen so easily.”

_“Touché. I was working out in the gym! It was an accident. I don’t have the ability to see how dark it is outside. It’s just…dark. It’s always dark.”_

She turned the nozzle and let the shower begin to billow steam inside the glass walls. “That’s a lie. You told me once that you see something kind of abstract in shades of red.”

_“I did? When the hell did I tell you that?”_

“In your sleep,” she smirked. “I mean, you were out. And probably a bit inebriated at one point in February and you started talking to me to the point I thought you were awake. So I asked and you answered. Is that really what you see?”

_“Kind of. It’s hard to explain.”_

She hopped into the shower and left her phone on the counter, the speaker turned all the way up. “It makes sense, you know. The human mind is a marvel that we don’t fully understand yet; and we may never unlock its secrets. But as a person who had sight, I would think that your brain would try to recreate something, kind of like when you said you make blueprints of rooms.”

_“Where are you? It’s kind of boomy…are you in the bathroom?”_

“Yep, in the steam shower. You kept talking so I am sat in the shower, breaking it in. And it’s nice. Ooh, there’s a aromatherapy thing…I should buy some oil to keep here for the next person. That’d be cool. Ooh, I could get different ones…”

_“Enjoying yourself?”_

“A bit, yeah,” she nodded as if he could see her. “Don’t be a hater, Matt. This thing is choice. You’re jealous. _And_ my air conditioning works better than yours. Well, now it does.”  
Jen could hear some rumbling in the background and knew exactly what that was. “Ah. Foggy’s snoring again?”

_“Like a buzz saw. It never stops. Doesn’t matter if I roll him over or not. I should be used to it by now, but…well…I love the guy.”_

“Saint Cheeseburger, you are,” she chuckled softly. “So, I have a question.”

_“Shoot.”_

“I know that I didn’t cook last night, sorry. I can cook tonight instead. But do you and Foggy want breakfast when you get here? Or coffee?”

_“I’m sure Foggy’ll want food, but I’ll take you up on a cup of coffee. And if you want, I can get there early to help cook or whatever you need.”_

She turned off the steam and wrapped her towel around her body, washed her face quickly in the sink, brushed her teeth, and snatched her phone from the counter. “You can come over whenever, Matt. You have the other key.”

He sighed and rolled over in his bed. _“Yeah, I know…but…I don’t want to come over unannounced and walk in when you aren’t decent.”_

“Chivalrous as that may be,” she teased, flopping onto the new bed that was put together for her earlier in the day, “you aren’t going to see much indecency. To be fair. And to be an asshole.”

 _“There it is,”_ he laughed loudly. _“The blind insult I’ve been craving all day. Yes. My day is complete.”_

“You make me sound like a…OH MY GOD THIS BED IS AMAZING.”

_“I what?”_

“The bed got put together today. I feel like I’m on a cloud of fluffy puppies.”

Matt’s tone turned flat. “ _That’s not nice. What did those poor puppies do to you? You’re crushing them.”_

“Ouch.”

_“Thank you, thank you; I’ll be here all night.”  
“But seriously, comfy?”_

“Very.”

_“Good. Try to fall asleep; I’ll be here until you do.”_

“You’re the best,” she mumbled, rolling over and tucking the covers around her body. “I hope you know that.”

_“Thanks; I try. That’s why I have you to remind me.”_

 

_*Knock, knock, knock; knock.*_

_What in the name of God…I just fell back asleep…where…what…oh. Wait, shit!_

_*Knock, knock, knock; knock.*_

“Coming,” she shouted from the bed. _Clothes. I need clothes. Cool. Hoodie and a pair of bike shorts. Good. Okay._ “Sorry, coming; just a minute.”  
She opened the gray door to reveal Matthew standing with his hands wrapped around his cane handle. “Hi.”

“Morning, sunshine. You just wake up? Sounds like it.” _Oh Christ, what is she wearing? Those shorts are…do they even classify as shorts? …and that hoodie’s too big for her…Don’t think about it, don’t think about it. Down boy; don’t think about it. You practiced this in your head six times. Just…be ready to say what you want to say._

“ ‘eah,” she yawned and ran a hand through her hair. “I kept waking up after you fell asleep. Not your fault. Just the nightmares. You’d think I’d be desensitized to them by now or something. But every time I feel like I’m getting past them, they change just enough that it throws me off.”

“Like recently?” Knowing that she preferred him without his glasses, Matt hung them off the collar of his shirt and entered the loft.

“Yeah.” She stiffly made her way to the kitchen and began to make coffee.

Matt left his cane by the door and took tentative steps to the kitchen, his hands guiding him to the counter and he leaned backwards on it while she worked at the large island.  
“What changed about it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now, if that’s okay,” she mumbled, filling the coffee well and setting it to brew. “Hungry?”

When she attempted to breeze past him, Murdock reached for her arm and pulled her gently to him, “Jen, I worry about you. How do you function when I’m not around to help you feel comfortable enough to sleep?”  
_Come on man, just…tell her. You made up your mind to come over early for a reason. Just…stop being chicken about it._

“Mainly caffeine in my veins, a fire in my gut, and tenacity,” she joked. “And I know you do,” she patted his chest reassuringly. “I’ll be fine. I’ve been dealing with it for over a decade. You’re good and all, but even your dreamscape prowess has limitations.”  
She popped a strawberry into her mouth and began taking the stem off of the next one. “I’m not overly hungry; too early after waking up for me…I’ll feel nauseous…and I know you said Foggy’ll want to eat…but what about you?”

“I’m a little hungry, I guess,” he admitted. Gingerly, his forefinger tilted her head upwards and he leaned down to kiss her. Everything about her screamed delight to him and he knew that he hadn’t missed the mark, especially when she started kissing him back.

“Morning to you, too,” she breathed when they parted, dazed. “And what was that for?”

“I wanted to see what you were having. I’ll have some of that.”

Jen placed the strawberry against his lips and he took a bite, his attention not wavering from her.  
_Oh girl, you better watch yourself. This is bad. Like, warning, warning; you’ve not ever felt like this bad… unchartered territory. What are you doing!?_  
“Better?”

Matt’s eyes travelled upward in thought and his demeanor became aloof. “I mean, I guess. What I had just tasted was better…”

Jen lifted herself onto her toes, pressed her lips to his and sighed.  
Dreams had nothing on the real thing. She wasn’t fooling anyone back in Ohio, either. Something had changed when she and Matt began their bizarre dance in February, and everyone could see it. Jen, who was usually fairly forward about what she wanted had stopped going out at night to find her man of the evening and chose to hang out with classmates or go around to Dominic’s to help him and Melissa with the baby. Jen had become more concerned with talking to a man in New York and knowing who he was rather than her own wants. Suddenly she didn’t miss those things as much.

If he asked her right now if she dreamed about him, she’d be honest and say yes. Some of those visions were as simple as sitting in a bar or on a couch talking; while others were far more intimate, and physical.

“This is a bad idea,” she whispered against his lower lip.

“Yeah,” he smirked, “Then we should probably stop.”

She ignored him and melted her mouth against his. “Uh-huh.”

Strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist, snaking under her hoodie and brushing against her skin, and for those few moments Jen knew there was no safer place to be though she couldn’t reconcile how she knew that. Jen also knew that her entire being was clawing out for more and she wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it. Her rationality got the better of her and she separated herself from Matt, leaning on the island’s edge opposite him, her breathing shallow and ragged.

Jen took stock of what he was doing to her: her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest, her hands itched to touch him, blood was pulsing under the thin skin of her lip, her ears were ringing; not to mention she wanted to jump Matt Murdock and take him on the kitchen counter.

_But…what about the other parts of me? I’ve never wanted someone so…encompassingly…like, the good side of me wants Matt…but…so does…the other…what does that even mean? There’s always a part of me that doesn’t like the men I sleep with…but… What the hell is this? Why does he do this to me?_

“Wow,” he ran a hand through his hair. “I – I’m, uh…”

“Don’t,” she warned. “Not yet.” _Because if you talk then the next hour is going to be far more physical than it’s supposed to be. God damn it, Matt._

He looked confused and hurt, so she explained. “I need a minute. For me. Because…if you keep talking…I…won’t stop.”

Any fears he had disappeared and he grew overconfident. Jen turned around and busied herself making breakfast while she subliminally hoped that he could genuinely tell how much she wanted him.

“And you just stop looking so smug,” she tossed over her shoulder while she worked.

“How can you tell? You aren’t even looking at me,” he challenged, moving to stand a few inches behind her.

She stopped turning the eggs over in the pan and stared at the ceiling to try and find some sense of composure. “Mr. Murdock, I’d be careful if I were you. You might just get what you’re looking for if you don’t watch yourself.”

 _What, like the sparks on your tongue, the current running along your skin…the thundering of your heart pounding in my ears? Why would I not want to dive into that again?_  
“Does it bother you that I’m this close?”

“You couldn’t truly bother me if you tried,” she challenged. “I’m good now.”

He smirked, “Yes, you are.”

“That charm is going to get you into trouble one day.”

“I think I’ll be fine.”

“So, what was the occasion for all of this this morning, hmm? You’ve been the picture of a gentleman since I got here. Not that I’m complaining.”

Matt held his breath for a moment before saying, “When you left Tuesday morning, Foggy wanted to know what this is…and then he asked me what I wanted from you…and I thought about it. I was thinking about it when we went out to lunch that day and all through dinner when you asked what was up and I told you I was fine.”  
“Yesterday, I had to keep myself from texting repeatedly and still, I was trying to figure out how to answer his question…”  
“And – and the truth of it is…th-that I don’t know how to answer him…but…I want whatever this is. Whatever it is. Whatever you want from me…it’s yours to have. I think that, after everything, I couldn’t believe I could…you know…be okay? But…when you’re around… I feel…something…and I don’t want it to go away.”  
“As for that…I’ve been wanting to do that since you left in February.”

“Hmm,” she nodded, her voice low in her throat.

Murdock was suddenly apprehensive and he knew she could tell. “Jen…please…say something?”

She sighed slowly and went back to cooking. “Alright then, Matthew,” she leaned backwards onto his chest. “Let’s start here, then, shall we?” A smile flashed on her face when his arms wrapped around her waist again, burying his face into her hair.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” Jen continued to finish breakfast with Matt firmly in place at her waist, thoroughly enjoying the prospect of being close to someone.  
“So,” she swished her hair to the side after putting the last of breakfast in the warming tray. “Do I get some kind of hint as to what I need to be prepared for today?”

“Well, not really…I would recommend, you know…uh…shoes you like to walk in. And being comfortable.”

“Comfortable clothing _and_ comfortable shoes. That’s very helpful. So I’m guessing that current attire is unacceptable?”

“I mean…no…but yes?”

“Uh-huh,” she spun around and wrapped her arms around his neck. “And how much time do I have?”

His fingers brushed over his watch at the small of her back and his eyes traveled above her head. “Twenty minutes with the way that Foggy’ll get here.”

Jen broke away from him and moved to get changed behind the curtain. “I guess I’ll have to get to it.” Matt sat on the counter and waited for her finish getting ready.  
“No other hints?”

“No, nope. But you’ll see. And then your brother gets here later. You’ll have an eventful day, that’s for sure,” he chuffed, legs swinging off the side.

“Alright, if that’s all I have to go on this will have to do,” she huffed, reappearing. “Shorts and a shirt will have to suffice.”

“Oh?”

She peered down at her attire and laughed, “I feel like a paleontologist. I’ve got the khaki shorts on and a white button-down shirt, all I need is a red bandana and I’ll look like that chick from Jurassic Park.”

“A paleontologist,” he queried with a raise of his brow. “You don’t say? And what are you planning on digging up today?”

“The past, duh. That’s what dinosaur diggers do,” she stood in front of him, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. She could feel his attention focused acutely on her.  
“What? I like dinosaurs! And you said you’d go with to the museum.”

“Nothing,” his hands popped up in innocence. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Your face.”

“Yeah?” he re-crossed his arms. “It’s my face. I sure as hell can’t see it. What’s it doing?”

“It’s looking a bit smug and doing the thing.”

“The thing?”

“The thing where you look charming and attractive and you seem to know everything.”

“Oh. Foggy tells me that’s just my face. Glad that you noticed.”

She leaned against his knee, “Foggy tells you that you’re attractive?”

“I mean…not on the regular, no,” he laughed. “He does bring it up when there’s a pretty girl nearby.”

“Pretty? Goodness, pretty girls?” she tapped her chin. Matt placed a hand at her waist and guided her to stand in front of him. “I’m – I’m sorry, Mr. Murdock…are…are you implying that you think I’m pretty?”

“Wouldn’t know,” he challenged. “Blind.”

“That’s an excuse if I’ve ever heard one from you.”

 _Everything about her right now. This? This is it. This is what I need in my life._  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She shoved at his chest and sat beside him so that she could slip on her socks. “Liar.”

_*Knock, knock; knock.”_

Her head snapped to the door and then back to him. “It’s Foggy, that’s how he knocks. Go open the door.”

Beaming, she hopped of the counter and skidded across the floor to the door nearly ripping it off its hinges until she was brought to a full stop.

_There it is. The adrenaline. She’s excited. I’ve only ever heard that when…well…when she’s kissed me…but this sounds a little different. It’s surprise. And don’t need to physically see her to know that either. She’s practically vibrating with all the energy coursing through her. Ten points to Nelson and Murdock._

“Heya, beastie.”

 

Standing in the kitchen with plates, cups of coffee or juice, Jen’s eyes traveled around the room at the group of people in her kitchen. Melissa was conversing quietly with Matt over coffee while Foggy was playing Peek-a-Boo with JJ and Dominic stood shoulder to shoulder with her against the counter.  
“When did you even plan to come out here?”

“Back in April,” he admitted with a wave to his daughter. “Matt and Foggy called and wanted to know if I would be able to come out should you be here. Melissa and I talked it over and her aunt and uncle live over in Brooklyn…so we decided to take a long weekend so that they could see the baby and we could surprise you.”

“Two months and you were able to keep your mouth shut? I’m impressed.”

Dom lightly punched her in the arm, “And risk that face of stupid surprise? Never. I even got a picture of it on my phone.”

“Delete it.”

“Nope. I’m going to wallpaper a room of my apartment with it.”  
He sipped his coffee and eyed his girlfriend. “When’s your brother get in?”

Jen followed his line of sight and gave a side eye. “He said we’d meet at Battery Park around three. Matt and Foggy told me that they’d come with. Want to come?”

“Yeah, I think we can do that. There’s some pictures she wants to take around the city; I’m sure there’s stuff there that she wants. It’s been a while since I saw the little squirt anyway.”

“I don’t think he’s so little anymore. He was taller than me the last time I saw him.”  
Dominic’s eyes hadn’t strayed from Melissa during their conversation. A devilish smirk splayed on her lips, “What are you thinking, Mr. Bonner?”

“Hmm?”

“You haven’t taken your eyes off of her since you got here with the exception of waving at my little nugget. And outside of this one time, you’ve never been good at keeping things from me. So spill.”

“To be fair,” he wagged a finger at her, “It’s not that I didn’t tell you. It just never came up in conversation.”  
He turned around and leaned his elbows on the counter. “If I tell you, you need to keep your mouth shut.”

“Better tell me soft-like so that she can’t hear it.”

He pulled a small box out of his pocket and placed it between his arms for her to see. Jen didn’t turn around, but let her eyes fall quickly to the opened box: a glittering ring.

Jen looked back up nonchalantly and brought her mug to her lips, whispering behind it, “Wow. You ready?”

“Yeah. I am.”

She nodded and sipped her coffee. “Proud of you.”

“I’ll need a best man.”

“Who’s that gonna be?”

Dom pocketed the ring and stood up, smacking her on the back of the head. “You, dumbass. Now don’t say anything because I’m going to do this today at the park before Danny shows up.”

“Got it.”

“What about you?” he nudged her.

“Me? What about me?”

“Think you’d ever do it? Settle down and all that?”

She rolled her eyes and leaned her head back. “Honestly, do you ever see me settling down? I dunno. Maybe. One day. After I burn off everything that’s in my system.”

“Well, Jesus, Mac; how long’s that gonna take? Haven’t you been burning it off since we’ve been friends?”

“Actually, no…it’s…it’s – it’s just been sitting there…but…it’s getting better, I think. A little at a time.”

Dom’s eyes shifted to Murdock. “Right. I’m guessing that I have him to thank?”

“Probably,” she shrugged. “He’s an influence, that’s for sure.”

“You know, there’s something off about him, though…something that’s a little weird.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, what kind of douche wears sunglasses inside?” Jen roared with laughter, interrupting conversation and playtime for all. “What?!” Dom cried out, flabbergasted.

 

“You never told him I was blind?” Matt whispered into her ear as the group walked from the stop to Danny’s spot in Battery Park.

She shrugged, “Nah, didn’t officially come up in conversation. I mean, I know I joked about telling him that I’d beaten up a blind guy…but it just…yeah…I forgot?”

“Heh,” he smirked. “I do think that, as the major _visible_ thing people notice about me, that might have been discussed.”

“It wasn’t the first thing I noticed.”

“You sure? Because I’m pretty sure it came up in conversation that first night at the bar.”

She patted his fingers in the crook of her arm. “Pretty sure I could hear your heart and soul in your voice before I looked up at you. Afterwards, debatable,” she inhaled sharply. “You are a rather shady individual and the whole blind thing…I mean…major turn off.”

“I was wondering if I was going to get insulted or nagged at today. There’s my answer.”

“You like it, you masochist.”

“Yeah, that’s the Catholicism. It’s also why we don’t get offended when we dish it back and forth to each other.”

She nodded, “Ah, yes. The good ol’ doctrine of virtue and self-loathing.”

“Of course. Part of every Catholic’s balanced breakfast. And that’s just the morning. Then guilt and self-deprecation by lunch.”

“Let me know if you two are done flirting,” Dom tossed over his shoulder, “because you two are going to make my eyes roll into the back of my head and I’m going to barf.”

“Shuddup,” she nagged. “Once we get there, I want to hold my goddaughter. I need some quality time with her.”

“Whatever,” Dom jabbed. “You’re getting limited time because I need to monitor how much you spoil her.”

“Why?” Foggy’s face showed his confusion. “I would have loved a wealthy _aunt_ ,” he emphasized the word with a flip of his hand, “to spend bank on me as a child.”

“See?” she gestured to the blond law student. “Thank you! Dom, you need to just accept the inevitable.”

JJ snored soundly as Dominic pushed her in the stroller while Melissa was able to photograph to her heart’s content. When the group got to the sphere, Dom, Melissa, Foggy and Matthew continued walking around the park once they had reached their destination leaving Jen and JJ to wait for her brother.

Foggy fanned himself with his paper in the shade of a tree, Matt on his arm. “Buddy, the next time we agree to go out with her at this time of day can it be when it’s cooler out?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Matt joked. “I don’t really have a lot of control over her family to be fair.”

“He’s late,” Foggy glanced at his watch. “You know, as punctual as Jen is for most things…I was hoping he got the same gene. Guess not.” The pair looped around and started making their way back toward Jen.  
“God, it’s hot.”

“At least we’re going to the museum after,” Matt pointed out, leaning his head to the side listening to the park. “Jen wanted to look at dinosaurs if her brother wasn’t going to make up his mind. Probably what swayed her choice of outfit.”

“What d’you mean?”

Murdock stopped walking and gripped his cane. “She said she looked like a paleontologist.”

“Well, she could have fully committed to the role and worn hiking boots. It would have been more believable. I have to give her a solid six out of ten for her performance. Now, if she can impress me with dinosaur knowledge once we get there, her score might go up.”

All persons converged around Jen, Melissa now proudly showing off her engagement ring to the group. Jen gave Dominic a bear hug, then paced about; walking and lightly bouncing the baby in her arms.

The Columbia boys were all smiles, conversing happily when a ragged voice cut through the air, “Hey, baby girl. You’re looking good.”

Dominic’s head spun around on a swivel and his tone grew dark, “Back the fuck up, asshole.”

Having not heard the original salutation, Jen registered the sound of Dom’s voice and turned around to find the threat he was growling at. In an instant, her body froze and her mind went into overdrive.  
“Melissa,” she panted, “take JJ and get behind me.”

Dom’s fiancée didn’t need to be told twice and scooped up her daughter from Jen’s arms. Foggy and Matt quickly moved themselves to Jen’s side; eyes were on the older gentleman that stood opposite them while Matt used the faculties he had to read everyone around him. Jen and Dominic’s vitals were skyrocketing while everyone else seemed to be showing the signs related to elevated confusion.

The older man before them was nearly as tall as Dominic, had perfectly coiffed hair the color of pewter, pale blue eyes, and a perfectly trimmed goatee with a thin, silver scar that trailed from his left temple to the base of his jaw. He wore an immaculately perfect black suit and held bouquet of red tulips and  chamomile blooms in his left hand.

“Jen,” Matt whispered, his fingers trailing down her forearm to find her hand, entwining their fingers together. “Who is he?”

Her audible swallow and cold sweat unsettled him, but she whispered back, “He’s…” she faltered. “That man…is Malcolm…my…father….”

A protective fury overcame Matt and the only thing he could think to do in that moment was to squeeze her hand and say, “I’ve got you.”

“Jenny,” her father cooed, a tentative step was taken in her direction. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Back off, fucker,” Dominic repeated. “Stay the hell away from her or I’ll make good on the threat she gave you the last time you saw each other.”

“Danny called me. Told me that Jenny was in town…and you…look at you,” he gestured to Dominic. “Look at how you grew up…and with a family now, no less! I’d have put my money on you being with Jenny at this point.”  
“And my baby girl…look at you,” he beamed with another step forward. “I watched your graduation on the live stream…” Jen shivered in repulsion, “and you graduated a year early. I’m so very proud of you.”

“You don’t get to talk to her,” Matt growled. “Not ever.”

Foggy took his cue and bristled, “Yeah. So get the hell out of here.”

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he placated. “This is a family matter between father and daughter. Please stay out of it.”

Melissa took a step forward, a protective hand shielding her daughter. “We _are_ her family, asshole, and you’re outnumbered.”

“Take JJ and go to your aunt’s,” Jen hissed. “Dom…see them safe…go.”

“But Jen…”

“Do not argue with me. Go. Now, Dominic. You have to protect my goddaughter and if you don’t I will whoop your ass from here to kingdom come. Now…Move it,” her voice stern. She nodded to Melissa who put a an affirming hand on Dominic’s arm. “Foggy, get them to a cab and take them home. Do not argue.”

“You call me,” Dom warned backing up, “and I’ll be back here like lightning.”

“Go,” she nodded, eyes fixated on her father. Soon, Nelson and the Bonner family were on their way to Brooklyn, leaving the scene as instructed.

Malcolm took more steps toward Jen and looked disfavorably over Murdock. “Jenny, you could have done so much better. He’s not going to elevate you at all, I mean…no offense, young man, but you’re blind. You aren’t capable of seeing what she is.”

Jen felt the energy change around Matt and she knew it wasn’t going to do any good to the situation. “Matt,” she drew out his name in a warning. “I’ve got you. He’s a prick.”  
“You don’t know anything about me,” she spat. “Or him! And if you think,” she bit her constants, “that you get to just walk back into my life, then you can fuck right off. And…and you know what? For the record? He can see me just God damned fine.”  
Her heart was beating so strongly, she could hear it causing her voice to waver. “I never wanted to see you again after the shit that you did to me…after the therapy I tried to get…after…” she angrily wiped a tear from her cheek.

Matt’s free hand clenched his cane, knuckles turning white from strain. Jen was borderline terrified and Matt was acutely aware of how much she hated the man before her. Taking a step forward, he tried putting Jen behind him. “Why don’t you leave? Clearly she doesn’t want you around and frankly…neither do I. You’re an asshole.”

“Matt,” Jen’s voice did its best to instill a sense of calm so that they’d both believe it. Her fingertips pressed between his shoulder blades, “Let’s go. I’m done here. Take me home.”  
“And you,” she snarled, pointing a finger at her father. “Here’s your last mercy:  Stay out of my life.”

The law student let Jen lead them out of the park, but all attention was on her and the man that was trailing behind by fifty feet or so. When they hopped into a cab, she gave the address to the loft and the car drove off. Malcolm was still following them in a different cab.

_If I can get her into the building, I could use some of the training Stick taught me and no one would be the wiser…well…she would know…she’d figure something out…Christ. How can I tell her that we’re being followed…it’ll have to wait until we get there…hang on…where’s he going? He went left…maybe he wasn’t following us…  
Jesus, and Jen…she’s a wreck…_

His fingertips reached out for hers and a wave of relief washed over him when she wrapped both her hands around his. “I’ve got you, Jen.”

 

With traffic, it had taken some time getting back to the loft but the pair made their way up the sidewalk to address since the cabbie had overshot the door by half a block. Matt hadn’t taken her arm this time, feeling that she closed herself off in the back of the cab and he was trying to be attentive. His cane tapped rhythmically back and forth while they walked, Jen occasionally muttering a word or two to warn him about uneven pavement or trash cans.

Murdock’s senses picked up a spike in someone’s heartrate nearby and the smell of tulips and chamomile. “Jen!” he shouted, shoving her out of the way.  
Her father had reached out and grabbed him instead, snarling in anger when he didn’t grab his intended target. Matt was flung into the alley and slammed into a brick wall with a knife pressed to his throat.

“Now,” Malcolm roared, “You have caused enough discord between my daughter and I. You need to go back to wherever you came from and not return. She doesn’t need you; what she needs is her father.”

When he looked out to the alley’s entrance, Jen was standing still her breathing shallow, wide-eyed.  
“Alright, Malcolm. You want to talk? We can talk. But I’m not having any conversation with you while that knife is on his throat. Matt has to be over here, with me.”

“Were you not listening? This is a family matter!”

“He _is_ my family!” she bellowed, panting. “Now…you aren’t the only one capable of making demands and if you know me as well as I think you do, you’ll know I keep my word. Let Matt go and give him to me.”

With a quick press of a pressure plate, the switch blade was sheathed and he shoved Matt across the alley to her, pocketing the weapon quickly.  
“I got you these flowers as an olive branch so that we could try to be a family again,” he handed her the bouquet.

“Are you okay?” she asked Matt quickly, checking his throat for injury.

“Y-yeah…yeah, I’m – I’m fine.” _Do I blow everything now? What do I do? …Murdock, you’re a selfish bastard._

Jen looked at the bouquet, frowned and tossed them into the nearby dumpster. “Red tulips? That’s a declaration of love and chamomile blossoms, if memory serves…are for energy in adversity…wow. You really know how to pick them.”

“Jenny…” Malcolm sang her name. “Sweetie, I’ve missed you. Danny talks about you all the time, but being able to see you…he doesn’t do you any justice.”

“Feeling isn’t mutual,” she seethed through clenched teeth. It took effort to choke down the bile that was rising in her throat. “And now you come here and you threaten someone I care about…yeah…I really fucking missed you.”  
“How long,” she choked, “have you been talking to my baby brother? Huh? You said Danny told you I was here.”

“He did,” her father nodded. “Danny called me up and said you were in New York and that you offered to let him stay with you. So he called me, let me know where you were going to meet so I could surprise you!”

“Danny’s not here, is he?” Her father shook his head in response. _  
Danny…betrayed me? For what? W-why?_

“We need to be a family again and you are so grown up now…”

Matt placed a hand on her shoulder and growled, “Jen is an adult as much as anyone here and she is fully capable of deciding what she needs or doesn’t. You got a lot of nerve, asshole, doing this to her. Back off and leave her alone.”

Malcolm rolled his eyes and ignored him. “Sweetie…look…what happened…I forgave you along time ago for it; you were young. You didn’t know what you were doing…”

She whistled low and rested her hands on her waist. “Wow…that’s just…magnificent,” she clapped sarcastically. “You’re an asshole, a child molester, _and_ deluded. It must be so nice to be you.”

Her father took a step forward, hand outstretched to touch her face, but Jen batted it away backing up into Matt. “Don’t touch me.”

_There…he felt it…just like he had in the hotel hallway…her body is chambering itself, ready to spring…her muscles went taut and are now relaxed and she’s breathing deeply. The adrenaline and cortisol in her blood stream isn’t affecting her like it had in the park. She knows he’s going to try again…_

“Jen,” Matt whispered. “Don’t.”

“Baby girl, you’re so beautiful. I love you. Danny, your mother and I …we all want you to come home. We can work all of this out and put it behind us. You belong at home with us…and with me.”

Jen blinked lazily, processing the motion and information that was happening before her. Malcolm had reached out again and stroked his forefinger down her cheek eliciting an involuntary shudder. A strong arm reached forward and Matt grabbed what fabric he could over her shoulder and pulled her father to him, trying to throw him against the wall. He had been able to successfully land a few blows to her father’s torso, but Malcolm countered with a cheap shot to Matt’s jaw.

It wasn’t anger that she felt in her belly, nor was it fear:  this was rage and it had been lying dormant for over a decade. Matt had staggered backwards, lightly stunned and she saw red. Placing herself between the two men, her father hesitated and stopped a punch mid-execution.

“Sweetie…”

 “Jen,” Matt shouted. “Leave him. He’s not worth your time. Okay? I – I know what you said…but…you can’t…you can’t kill him.”

His observational plea made her stop in her tracks. “Why…after what he did…”

“He deserves to serve time for what he did and I can help you make sure that he does, but Jen…I need you to come back to me…please,” he cried out. “I’m alone in the dark and – and you promised me…you promised…”

Jen peered over her shoulder and her heart ached in her chest from the pain, fear, and concern on his face. _How does he do that? How does he get into the fabric of me and…just…make me feel?_  
She nodded, murmuring a quick ‘ _okay’_ and backed up slowly to his outstretched hand.

“You were,” Malcolm lamented, “far more respectful and obedient as a child.”

“Tends to happen when you are supposed to inanely trust your parents to do right by you,” she snarled, “before finding out that they are assholes and the shit stain of humanity.”

“Well, you think about this then, _Matt,_ ” her father sneered, wiping blood from his nose. “I love my daughter. And she loves me…I taught her everything she knows. So you think about that the next time you sleep with her.”

Her stomach plummeted and she felt ill when Matt’s mouth fell agape; her mind racing with how best to react to what her father had said. The best that she could come up with was to kick him across the alley while her mind continued to short-circuit.

The next few moments were a blur and her body went on autopilot: she remembered Matt grabbing her hand and pulling her behind him into the building, getting off the elevator without remembering getting on it in the first place, him bolting the door shut to the loft, and Matt turning on the shower while she sat on its floor.

“I’ve got you, Jen…it’s okay…” he soothed.

Her head dipped downward and she noticed that she was still dressed, and even though Matt was talking to her she couldn’t hear him over the ringing in her ears.  
She knew that she was safe in the loft and safe with Matt; she knew that for the most part she was uninjured, and yet she felt hollow. She felt nothing. The rage was gone, as was any fear or sadness; she felt empty. In six revolting words, she was rendered empty.  
_“I taught her everything the knows…” He said that. He actually said that. And to Matt. So I could hear it. But it’s not true…it’s not! It can’t be true…Fuck him. And fuck everything he did. No. He’s trying to get in my head… He has to be. He wants me to run. Back to him._

Her hands continued to rattle in her lap and despite the summer heat, she felt cold. She realized why Matt was sitting in the shower with her, an arm wrapped around her shoulder with warm water cascading down over them: she was shivering.

The ringing faded and the gentle patter of falling water overtook her senses. His voice was hushed and assuring; his lips brushing against her forehead while words of calm and safety tumbled from his mouth.  
“You’re okay, Jen. I’m here. I won’t let him get you. I promised.”

“I’m – I’m sorry…” she stammered.

“Shh. Don’t you apologize for him. Don’t you dare.”

“I should have…stopped…I – I could…what…should have…”

“No. Him showing up like this is not your fault and you can’t blame yourself…you’ll deal with your problems the way you always do…”

She leaned her head against him and was surprised when he hissed out in pain. Her eyes shot open to see swollen, red skin on the left side of his jaw.  
_He hit him. He. Hit. Him. Deal with your problem, Jen…the best way you know how. The way you always do._  
She slid up the wall to stand, leaving Matt bewildered on the floor. “I – I need…I – I need to go,” she stammered, staggering out of the shower soaking wet.

“Jen!” he shouted, slipping on the floor trying to trail behind her.

“Stay here, Matt…I…I have something that I need to do…” she snatched her phone off the counter and pressed it to her ear.  
“Danny, you and I are going to square up soon and discuss this…but I need you to send our father a message.”

“JEN!” Matt shouted and slid into the main space when she slammed the door behind her. He focused his hearing onto her heartbeat and followed her through the walls to the elevator.  
_“I need you to tell him to meet me at Fogwell’s Gym in Hell’s Kitchen tonight around midnight…yeah…I don’t want to talk about it right now. Good. Do it.”_

He dried himself off quickly and changed into one of Jen’s more androgynous shirts, snagging a spare pair of shorts he’d kept in his bag before calling Foggy.

“ _Matt, buddy are you oka…”_

“We’ve got a problem.”

 

Jen stood with her back to the door, hands resting on one of the ropes from the ring, and her mind was racing.

 _How could Danny have done this? I didn’t think he was spiteful enough…what if my mother is the reason he did it? What if she told him to? That’s beyond plausible…and she’s always blamed me…which I never really understood…I  guess he’s that manipulative…and turned me against her…still, her partner over her child? That’s cold._  
What if he doesn’t show up? I’m going to be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life wondering where he is…and now…now there’s other people _to consider…_  
I don’t even know where he lives…does he live in the city or – or does he live elsewhere…does he know about Chicago? What if he shows up there? Christ...what if he tries to get me fired? Should I let Mr. Duquesne know about it?  
And what if he comes after Matt or Foggy? I mean, I’ve been thinking about that all day...and – and it’s been haunting me at night…I don’t know who he is anymore…I grew up…what’s he been doing for the past nine years…and I sweat to God, if he lays another hand on him, I’ll…

“You always did have a flair for the anticlimactic dramatics, Sweetie,” a ragged voice interrupted her thoughts.

She turned around, eyes locking onto him, “Malcolm.”

“Please,” he groaned, stepping into the gym. “It’s dad.”

“No. I don’t have one of those.”

“I beg to differ,” he smirked, tossing his light jacket onto a bench. “This,” he gestured around him, “is a dump. Why on earth would you come here? There are so many other gyms in the city, boxing gyms included, that don’t look this bad.”

She crossed her arms and huffed, “It’s important to someone I know…and I’m hoping it’ll be important to me, too.”

“Ah,” he wagged a finger, moving closer toward the light, “the boy toy, right? I should have guessed as much. And for what, eh? Did he pine to be a fighter? That whole sight thing is a bit important.”

“You don’t get to talk about him, guess who he is or what he’s been through…you leave him the fuck alone; his best friend, too…or I swear to God, I’ll…”

“You’ll what,” he spat with a stomp of his foot. Malcolm’s jaw was set on edge and his lips pulled back into a snarl, “You couldn’t do anything in that alley, Jenny. What…shoving me and that feeble kick across the alley? Please…don’t try to intimidate me.”

“I told you,” her gaze challenging his without blinking, “that if I ever saw you again, I’d kill you. I don’t make idle threats.”

“You won’t kill me, Jenny,” his eyes drinking her in. “I’m daddy. And you’re my little girl.”  
“But you did come back to me, like I knew you would. Couldn’t resist, could you?”

“What are you talking about,” she spat.

“You can’t be with anyone without thinking of me, can you? I’m always there because you know, deep down, you can’t have anything better. Oh, yes, your mother and brother told me about your promiscuity in high school; about how you were _acting out_ after I’d left. I know all about it.”

She stood incredibly still as Malcolm circled around her. “You know, you’re not mine. Not really. Your mother slept around a little when we were on a break. And when she got pregnant, she came back to me and we got married after you were born. So really…this bond…this attraction between us…it’s justified.”

“You’re shitting me,” spittle flying from her clenched teeth. “That’s how you reconcile? You think that because my mother fucked the mailman that I might not be yours and that makes everything okay? How the fuck do you sleep at night? And I don’t know if you noticed, asshole, but we look far too much alike for anyone to think I’m not yours and for years I would wake up every day and _hate,”_ she seethed, “what looked back at me in the mirror because I saw you.”

“So that’s the pull to the blind boy,” Malcolm chuckled. “He can’t see you and you think that makes it all better? You think you can have _something_ with him because he can’t see you?”

“He can see me just fucking fine.” Jen’s nails were digging into the bed of her palms, knuckles white with strain. “You’re sick,” her whisper sharp and dripping with venom. “You…raped me…over and over…for years…”

The back of Malcolm’s fingers trailed down Jen’s arm, setting her teeth on edge in repulsion. “Does it bother you to know that you’re more than likely incapable of being intimate with anyone other than me? None of those boys stuck because you’d already had a man. Didn’t you know?”

“Don’t touch her,” a deep voice cut through the tension. “Ever again.”

If a heart could feel like it would burst with hope and deflate from disappointment, Jen was experiencing it at that moment.  
_That or a heart attack. What the hell is he doing here? How did he know where to find me?_  
“Matthew, go home…please…” her voice cracked against her will.

“I can’t,” he stepped forward, his cane tapping lightly on the ground until he stood at her side. “I promised that I’d have your back. And I meant it. So – so yeah…I…I can’t and – and I won’t.”

“Touching,” Malcolm seethed. “This is really the champion you’ve chosen to fight for you? Seriously?”  
“What? You? You’re going to fight her battles for her? Listen, son…we’ve got history. Why don’t you just run along home. My daughter and I have things to discuss,” Malcolm groaned.

“Fight her battles? No, you misunderstand,” Matt challenged, his lips pressed into a hard line. “I know she can fight. She just doesn’t have to fight this one alone.”

It was an odd sense of déjà vu where she was transported back to the locker room hallway in middle school and instead of her father and whatever Matt was classified as in her life, she saw Dominic and Josh sizing and squaring each other up. Then, her mind transported her to the therapist’s office she’d had in high school and she was sitting on the couch, shaking her head.

“Do you know what she’s capable of, buddy-boy, hmm? She’s a terrifying individual. Brutal, ruthless; damaged…you want something like that in your life?” Malcolm quirked a brow up in question.

“She’s _someone_ ,” Matt stressed, “that’s brilliant and warm a-and strong…and nothing you can say will make me afraid of her. Nothing.”

 

_“Jennifer, you seem to always look for the bully in everyone that you meet; would you say that’s true?”_

_Jen shrugged and leaned backward into the pillows. “Wouldn’t you? Isn’t it safer to presume that everyone means to hurt you? Don’t you stay alive longer that way?”_

_“Is that what you think this is? Life is just a matter of staying alive?”_

_“Yep,” she rolled her eyes._

_“What about living?”_

_“What about it?”_

_Her therapist leaned forward, notes on her lap. “Living life, Jennifer…finding moments of joy…happiness…love…sadness…they are all a part of the human condition. If you keep fighting everyone that wants to be let in, you’ll be alone.”_

_“I am alone.”_

_“That’s not true. We talked about Dominic last week. What about him?”_

_She crossed her arms and blew air through her nose. “That’s different.”_

“ _Why? Why does it have to be different with Dominic and no one else?”_

_“Because,” she grumbled, tears welling in her eyes, “I know he loves me despite what’s happened. I am broken. Only equally broken people like broken things.”_

_“Is Dominic broken?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“So you why don’t you seek out other broken people?”_

_“Because,” she fought back the tears. “Because…they’re afraid…of…me.”_

_“Are you saying Dominic isn’t afraid of you?”_

_“No. He is. He’s just not smart enough to leave me.”_

 

“I want to make a proposition,” she steeled her voice.

Matt’s hand wrapped around her arm in caution. “Jen, wait…think about this.”

“I’m listening,” Malcolm’s voice oozed with glee.

“I’m going to step in that ring,” she nodded in its direction, “and I’m going to fight for my life...”  
Matt’s body stilled and his face fell. She continued, “…and his life, and Danny’s…and anyone else that matters to me… And I’m hoping that you are going to step in the ring with me.”

“Oh, this is going to be good,” he rubbed his hands together. “What are the stakes?”

Jen’s stomach lurched. _Why’s he so keen to fight…what if he’s like…a master ninja?  
_“If I win…I’m dead to you and so are the people around me. You don’t come looking for us, you don’t come to my place of work; you get the fuck out of my life permanently and stay there because…after…what you did to me…”

“I seem to recall you liking it,” he winked. “More than a few times.”

Jen could hear Matt’s hand clench against his cane and she turned around to face him. Her voice was barely a whisper, “He’s going to say things…and they will probably be true, okay? Okay? And I’m sorry…I didn’t mean for you to come here and hear this… But it’s something I gotta do…right? I’ve gotta go and do me, okay? And…if you still want me after…then…okay… But I need you to calm down. If he comes after you…”

“Fine. But you say my name once, and I’m in that ring. Got it?” his face had turned to stone. Her hand patted the center of his chest and he backed up onto a bench.

Jen spun on her heel and felt her voice catch in her throat. “I was eight,” her words hoarse. “I…was…eight…when you started…and I didn’t know…any better…”  
“I had to…learn,” she strained, “how to react to people…how to accept people wanting me…and – and I had…had to try and be better…all…the time…do you know…how _long_ it took…for me to hold…someone’s hand…huh?”

“Still,” her father bent under the ropes and stood in the center of the ring. “How does that sit with you now? You look like such a calm and collected individual but I bet you’re all chaos underneath… There are ways to find out.”  
“Whelp…let’s say I win this little drag-out you’ve got planned…if I win…then you come home with me.”

“No,” Matt snapped. “Jen…don’t.”

Her weight shifted back and forth on her legs having stuffed her hands into her pockets. “So let me get this straight…I’m going to have to fight for my life and freedom in this boxing ring…and – and if I win…you’ll officially be out of my life…but if I lose…”

“Then I take you out of New York and we go back to being a happy little family.”

“You’re sick,” she spat. “Do you even remember how it all started? Huh…when you started raping me as a child?” Jen knelt to tie her shoe and emptied the contents of her pockets at Matt’s feet.  
When she stood, her hands braced either side of his head and she pressed a kiss to his forehead, “It’s okay…I’ve got you.”

Malcolm shrugged and rolled up his sleeves, “Does it matter?”

“I heard you go into Danny’s room one night,” Jen’s tone icy. “You were talking to him…and he was so little…but it didn’t sound right…so when you left to get your _toys_ …I crept in his room and told him to sleep in my room…and I took it instead…” she crawled under the ropes and stood in one of the corners.  
“Bet my mother doesn’t know about that, either.”

“Your mother,” he sighed, “is a simple woman, Jenny. Really. I love her; don’t get me wrong…but you always wanted to live in your books and at school. You were never there with us. It wasn’t difficult to make her believe you were telling stories. It’s what you loved: reading.”

“I hate you,” she raged.

“And here we are…together…you think you have what it takes to beat me? You can’t. I’m a part of you.”

“I have to try. No more running. Everyone has to face the darkness at some point. Guess it’s time I face mine.”

Malcolm smirked and cracked his knuckles, “I’m going to enjoy this. And your boy over there gets to listen. Lucky him. You sure you don’t want to trade spots with her?” He peered down to Matt’s still form. “I don’t want to hurt _her_.”

Air stilled in her lungs and any apprehension that she had was gone. The world around her began to move in slow motion and she smiled. She had missed this feeling before she’d have a match on the mat as a kid. It was like this during fight club time, too. She could have sworn that Matt huffed air through his nose once, as if knowing that she was ready.

The few punches Malcolm had thrown at her were sloppy until he had faked her out and landed a solid strike to her left shoulder. Jen groaned, gritting her teeth against the wave of pain.

After Murdock had brought her here the first time, she did some research on his father and watched tapes of Jack Murdock in the ring. His stats weren’t stellar, but the man knew how to take a punch and how to tire out his opponent. _Matt’s a lot like his dad…he’s tenacious…he gets back up…he’s inherently a good man…_  
When she’d suggested the gym to Danny, she’d hoped that she’d be able to tire her father out, get some revenge, and then scare the living shit out him to leave her alone.  
Unfortunately, her father hit a little harder than she’d anticipated and she knew he was losing his patience.

“You’re not even playing the game, Jenny,” Malcom teased, lobbing another open palm across her face. “What was the point of this game if you aren’t going to play?”

“Stop it,” she snapped, confused at the stars clouding her vision. Equilibrium was thrown off and she felt her back smack against the mat. She rolled over sputtering, dragging herself away from where she thought her father was before a blow landed between her shoulder blades. Her face bounced off the ring floor and her tongue was slick with blood.  
_Isn’t this just going well, you fucking idiot! You aren’t even fighting back. What was the fucking point of being here?_

Her father’s fingers ensnared themselves in her hair, dragging her head up to his mouth so he could whisper, “You think you can run away from me? What do you think’ll happen when you pass out? Huh? Maybe I’ll have him listen to the good time we’ll have. Maybe I’ll beat him until he can’t walk. What kind of fight do you think he’d put up for you? For me?” He brushed his knuckles over the red skin on her face. “I will admit, your skin still feels nice,” he croaked with a lecherous smile.

After her she choked back the bile in her throat, a primal growl roared from her and she kicked her father in the chest, sending him reeling into one of the corners.

A quick sigh escaped her lips and Matt’s voice, clear and calm, rang out in her ear from his spot on the bench.  
“Beat his ass!” he shouted jumping closer to the ring.

That was all that she needed.

_Everything in me…it’s now. All of it. If I don’t finish this now…he’ll never stop. Never. But now he knows that you care for Matt. He saw. He knows that you’ve grown up without him and it bothers the shit out of him. He hates that you don’t want or need him. Don’t let him win. Do you. Do what you do well. No one said you had to make it quick._

Flashes of color and streaked motion across Matt’s vision: there was a flash at the sound of Malcom’s wrist breaking after he tried to grab her and she used some Aikido to bring him to his knees, a rush of air as she pulled her arm back and repeatedly let her fist fly into his face, and the sickening crack of broken ribs when her foot planted itself in his side. Whispers of fabric against the floor when he tried to crawl away were silenced by hands fisting into his shirt and throwing him across the ring, his body landing with a dull thud.  
Air shifted as Malcolm inhaled sharply when trying to grab at his daughter, but Matt had already sensed she’d torqued her hips to help drive her elbow into Malcom’s face. A few of his teeth cracked.  
Her foot steps were heavy; her heel digging into the ground as she walked. Each step a small indicator of where she was and how genuinely pissed off she felt. She’d begun panting from exertion before flexing her right hand, the joints and ligaments creaking in his ears.

Her hands weren’t shaking, but the adrenaline in her veins was making her giddy enough that she felt like she was vibrating. When Malcolm tried to push himself up to his knees, Jen stomped on his bent elbow. A series of cracks and howls of pain told her that his arm was broken.

“You ungrateful bitch!” he screamed, cursing her in every way he could muster. “I love you!”

She’d fallen to her knees, panting, “You…don’t know…what that is.”

He clawed at her with his other hand, scratching her legs. “You’re mine, Jenny. I will never leave you.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, wiping blood from her nose. “Yeah, I know. Isn’t that just the piss of it?” Her knee slid across the floor and pinned his free forearm to the ground. “But…you won’t be coming after me,” she sucked in a quick breath, stretching his hand out onto the floor and pinning it flat with her left hand.  
“Because, I won. And that’s something, isn’t it?”

Jen pulled back her right hand and drove it into the back of Malcolm’s hand, the bones cracking underneath her fist. He gasped, not making any other sound.  
“No? Not enough to tap out yet,” Jen asked. “Suit yourself.”  
For the next minute, Jen landed blow after blow into the same spot on Malcolm’s hand until he’d begun screaming.

She hadn’t noticed that Matthew had crawled into the ring or heard him shout her name. A jolt of panic ran through her when arms wrapped around her torso and pulled her off of her father. The rational side of her mind kept telling her that if she hadn’t been dragged away, she never would have stopped. Matt pulled her flailing body backwards into a corner, his back against the post, holding her to his chest; one arm around her waist and the other at her forehead.

Jen screamed like an animal at her father’s writhing figure, her chest expanding in all directions every time she would inhale to begin again. Screaming turned to yelling and in time, turned into a primal bellowing. The bells in her ears had only intensified and she pushed her voice to its limits so that she could hear her rage over the ringing.  The action had made her dizzy and her head dipped backwards onto Matt’s shoulder.

A broken record, Matt continued to whisper into her ear, “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you. He’s done.”

 

Detective O’Donnell stood in the middle of the gym having taken statements from the janitor and Matthew. He was nearly done speaking with Jennifer, but the EMTs wanted to make sure she was medically fine before they continued the interview.

“Something doesn’t really add up, Miss MacDougall,” he dug his heels in. “Why would you come here if you weren’t planning on fighting him in the first place? This is a boxing gym. You could have met up anywhere.”

“Not very many places I know around here, sir,” she offered in honesty. “Nor are there very many places that make me feel safe. I thought…maybe there’d be some people here, you know? Kind of public, but not enough to make a scene…and – and then when I got here…”

“Empty.”

“Yeah,” she winced when the alcohol swab raked over her shredded knuckles. “When Matthew showed up…and my father threatened to go after him…I just…I knew that if I fought, it wasn’t just me, you know? Matt didn’t do anything.”

“Your recording is going to be submitted into evidence. You won’t be getting that phone back for a while. Lucky that you had it in your pocket.”

“Yes, sir; I understand,” Jen nodded. “I usually use it when I practice music…but I can go buy a cheap recorder later. Ow!” she screeched. The medic apologized and began wrapping her hand.

“She’ll be fine,” the medic informed the detective. “All wounds have been photographed and documented. She’s good to go; doesn’t look like she needs to go to the hospital. But if your head starts to hurt, I’d go get it checked out.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jen agreed, taking some paperwork from the EMT. “Thank you.”

“How long are you in town for, Miss MacDougall?” the detective queried, waiting to jot down her answer.

“My boss wanted me in town until the loft apartment was finished; sometime before The Fourth, but I’m not sure. Would you like his contact information?”

“Please. You are under advisement to not leave town for a while and if you do have to fly back to wherever it is that you came from, you’ll need to give me plenty of warning.”

Jen stood up slowly, achy, and crossed her arms. “I understand. Should I need to be here through July, I’ll need to make some arrangements.”

He fished out a card from his breast pocket and handed it to Jen. “You have any questions or remember anything, you call me and I’ll add it to the report. And Miss MacDougall, try not to get into any more brawls while you’re visiting New York, will ya? Go home and get some rest. He’ll be taken for medical attention and put into jail.”

As the officers left, Matt stepped out of the shadows, his face tired and weary. Her steps were light and quiet as she moved to stand before him, her head hung low.  
“I know I promised,” her voice pinched, almost too small to feel like her own. “But, Matt…”

He’d dropped his cane in order to envelop her, a hand bracing the back of her head and the other pulling her close. She smelled like sweat and coffee, the latter residual from the morning and the back of her shirt was drenched. Her arms wrapped behind his back tentatively at first, as if surprised he wouldn’t let go.  
“I – I know. Yeah…I know. We don’t… But…Jen…will you let me….can I take you home?”

Her head bobbed against his shoulder, “Please.”


	12. Our Power is in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)

_Friday_

Matt sat on the couch, head in his hands while his best friend sat beside him. He’d called Foggy from the gym and asked him to bring over a bag of his things, explaining what had happened and how he didn’t think that Jen should be alone for the weekend.

At his behest, Jen was back in the shower scrubbing the evening from her skin and to try and relax some. His chest felt tight. He wanted to do something…anything…to help Jen tonight so that she wouldn’t have had to deal with her father. But he _was blind_ and as far as she was concerned, his senses were only mildly heightened. She didn’t know that he could see in all directions around him like radar or that his ears could perceive distances or shapes from sounds in a room. Nor did she know that, thanks to Stick, he was well-versed in multiple styles of martial arts.  
Had she been knocked unconscious, he could have gotten into the ring and made Malcolm into a rag doll. The problem was how could he spin it so that she would believe the damage was done by her hand when she came to?  
_Could you though? What if she started asking questions? How could I lie to her; she’d know…_

“Matt, you’re doing everything that you can, buddy; you need to try and stop beating yourself up about it,” his voice sincere. “Us being available is probably the best that we can do for her right now, right? Like…just letting her know that we’re here…”

“Doesn’t mean that I don’t feel guilty about it. I could have done _something_.”

“Look, you’ve heard her fight twice now and I’ve seen it once with my own eyes…she’s like a damn freight train once she gets moving…”

“Thanks for calling the police, Foggy…I don’t think I thanked you yet.”

“You’re welcome. Hey, can you promise me to keep living a little less dangerously around Mac? I mean…I should have been the one to go to the gym and you should have called the cops.”

“Maybe,” Murdock rubbed his face harshly. “You think she’d have listened to you if you told her to stop?”

“Think she’d have listened to you?” Foggy challenged. “You took a ridiculous risk showing up there. What if he’d gotten the drop on her and came after you, huh? Did you think about that?”

 _That’s what I was kind of hoping for._ “No, not really…I just wanted to help her…”

“Now I don’t buy that. You’re one of the most intelligent people I know; you had to have thought about it.”

“Well, yeah, but,” he faltered. “Foggy…I – I just didn’t care, you know?”

Nelson sighed and ran a hand through his hair before standing up. “Yeah, I know,” he agreed staring down at his best friend. “Caring about someone makes you willing to do stupid things, I guess.”  
“Did they tell you how bad her asshole-of-a-father got it?”

 _No, they didn’t. I heard it for myself, actually…and heard the EMTs both whistle and give an impressed ‘God damn’ when he was being evaluated._  
“Yeah…they were anticipating something like twenty broken bones…most of them in his hand…and his left arm had a compound fracture…she hauled off like there was no tomorrow.”

“Good,” Foggy snipped. “After what he did to her…I hope they lock him up for good and throw away the key. Especially with the recording she took on her phone…lucky for her she had it from earlier, right?”

“Yeah,” Matt lied. “Lucky.” _She’d grabbed it on the way out. She knew what she was doing._

Foggy listened closely and heard the water still running. “You think she’s okay? She’s been in there for forty-five minutes.”

 _Yeah…well…okay enough. She’s sitting under the shower head and hasn’t moved for twenty minutes._  
“I’ll check on her before you leave, just in case.”

Matt knocked on the door, asking Jen if she was alright. The response he received was the water being turned off and the sound of muffled movement on the other side of the door.  
“Fine,” her voice was quiet again.

“Thank God for small favors,” Foggy huffed. “Murphy’s law and all that…I was seriously hoping she wasn’t injured and bleeding out in the shower.”

“She’d probably have said something, Foggy.”

“You don’t know! How many scraps have you been in, Murdock? She’s a beast. She knows how to hide pain and stuff…I remember her telling stories about being in tournaments+.”  
“Do you need anything before I go? Your backpack is next to the couch.”

“If I think of anything, I’ll call you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Foggy’s voice sounded sad, his eyes staring at the bathroom door. “Take care of her, Matt. Whatever she needs.”

“Yeah,” he mimicked his best friend’s reply. “I don’t know if she’s going to sleep at all, but…I’ll let you know how she’s doing in the morning.”

“Mac?” Foggy called, hopeful. “You know that we love you, right? And if you need anything…ever…we’re your guys.”

The bathroom door opened and Jen stepped out wearing a bathrobe tightly wrapped around her body, arms crossed in front of her. Foggy’s heart sank when he made out a reddened outline of a hand on her face, wondering exactly how bad the fight was in comparison to how bad it could have been.  
_She’s going to have a matching set of bruises on either side of her face, her lips busted open and swollen and she’s all scratched up. I can’t imagine what he looks like, though._

“Thanks, Foggy,” she replied, eyes cast down and head bent. “I’m…uh…sorry that, um, all of this happened.”

He furrowed his brow and shook his head, bewildered. “You need to stop apologizing, Mac; I’m serious. What is it with the Catholics I surround myself with? You defended yourself. And Matt! You did what you had to and now that asshole is in jail; not to mention probably cuffed to a hospital bed until further notice. I know it sucks right now but…you’ll get through this. You’re strong.”  
“Now, if you want, I can stop buy tomorrow and bring lunch. Would that be okay?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, eyes staring up at him. “That’d be good.”

“Alright then,” Foggy gave an assuring smile. “Then I’ll be back at lunch time. Try to get some rest, both of you; that’s an order.”

The blond man left quietly, leaving Matt and Jen to stand in a tense silence in the living room. The quiet was killing her, her ears now hyper sensitive to the low noise emanating from the air conditioner and the lights. His face was oddly stoic; his lips pressed into a firm line and his brows knitting together. But she knew what that facial expression was: he was pissed off.

“If it’s all the same,” she croaked, rubbing her arm through the thin fabric of her robe, “I’m really tired.” She skittered around his statuesque presence and tried to make it to the bed.

“You and I both know that’s not why you were apologizing earlier,” his tone plain. “We’re both too smart for that pretense, so I think that we should just let that fall into the open.”

Her tongue shoved into the side of her cheek and she rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to do this right now, Matt.”

“I do. Don’t I get a say at all?”

“I’m the one that got into the fight,” she spun on her heel to face him.

“On purpose. One could argue that was a form of entrapment.”

Her head pulled back in surprise, “I did what I had to do. He hit you.”

“That’s a bold-faced lie,” he took a step toward her voice. “And you know it. You wanted to do it; you were itching for it since we were in the park. Using my jaw as an excuse is bullshit.”

“So what?!” she shouted at him. “Yes. Okay, are you happy? Yes! I wanted to fight him. Fuck, Matt!” she paced around the open space. When her eyes fell on him, he was standing defensively and his chest was rising and falling sharply.  
She continued, “He has been haunting the shadows of my life since I was a kid! And – and…and yeah, I wanted to make him pay for it! Something!”

“That’s what the law and the system is for!” he countered.

“Lot of good that did me as a kid,” she spat. “You… D–don’t you stand there and try to spin out some bullshit about walking the righteous path! If you were in the same room as the guy that had your dad killed, whomever he is…you can’t tell me that you’d not look for your pound of flesh!”

Matt bit his lower lip and cast his head down. If he was going to say anything in rebuttal, he’d need to choose his words carefully so that she wouldn’t sniff out any lies he could tell. He placed his hands on his waist and shook his head, “Yeah, Jen. Yeah. I would. I know I would…but that doesn’t mean that’s what I want for you!”

“What _you_ want for me?” she screeched. “I have been dealing with this,” she tapped her temple, “for years! And…and what, you think that now that we are whatever this is, you get a say in what goes on in my head and my life? He was going to come after you, Matthew! He said so!” Tears were stinging her eyes and her voice was strained.

“As long as it protects you and keeps you safe, yeah, I think I do!” he shouted back. “Christ, Jen! Do you – you have any idea what I was willing to do…I can’t see the bastard and – and…” he staggered back and reached for the counter to brace himself upright.  
“…I didn’t know what was going to happen…but I knew that I _had_ to be there because I care about you…and…” his voice trailed off.

“Matt…” Jen crossed herself and tried to steel her voice, internally kicking herself when it didn’t work out as well as she hoped. “Matt, please.”

“You aren’t the only one who’s willing to put their safety on hold in order to protect someone,” he gripped the counter’s ledge, shaking his head again. “So don’t you stand there and try to pull the martyr shit with me, Jennifer. You may not think you’re worth saving, but God damn it!” his head hung low.

Guilt nagged at her while tears fell freely off her puffy cheeks; her feet carrying her to stand in front him. A tentative hand reached out and rested lightly on his chest, relief flooding her when his hand came up to press her palm against his chest.  
“I’m sorry…Matt, I’m so sorry.”

“Jennifer,” he whispered. “For the first time in a long time, I was scared tonight.”

“…Matt…”

“And it wasn’t him… There was a moment when he hit you…I thought…that…maybe you weren’t going to win…and – and …so I got in the ring and pulled you off him because…you couldn’t kill him…and that’s when it set in. The fear… That you were going to be so mad at me for stopping you that…that you’d leave me and – and cut me out of your life…”

“You may not believe me,” she choked out, wiping away the fresh tears, head bowed, “but I couldn’t do that…I couldn’t do that to you.”

“Jen,” he sighed through his nose, lifting his head up and taking his glasses off.

“When you came over earlier, you asked about the nightmare evolving, remember?”

“I do.”

She inhaled sharply, “Before I came out here…it started changing…and…it wasn’t just me, anymore…you were there, trying to protect me… I was paralyzed as I watched him beat you until you couldn’t walk or talk…and then he’d throw you into the dark…and come after me…and I would try to fight him…but I’d never win…and – and I couldn’t…Matt, I couldn’t let him do that to you.”  
“It was one thing when it only affected me…but…I couldn’t…” she cried.

“Okay,” gentleness easing back into his voice. “Shh…okay…okay; we’re done. I’m sorry. Don’t cry, Jen; I’m sorry.” He reached up and brushed her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear, repeating more sincerely, “I’m sorry.”

His fingertips brushed down her face and when she winced, his heart plummeted; his hand pulled back reflexively. “No, don’t…it’s not your fault,” she whispered, wiping her face roughly. Her hand reached for his and gingerly pressed his palm against her face. “I’m okay…see?”

Matt’s fingers delicately traced the lines of her face, the swollen skin pulsing with heat under his touch and her split lip puffy under his thumb. He hadn’t realized that his face was showing his emotions so readily and felt her breathing steady in response.

“See? Not so pretty anymore. You’ve got nothing to worry about,” she waited for him to respond, but he remained silent. “That was a joke, Matt. You were supposed to laugh.”

“Hmm,” he grumbled, weariness falling on his face.

“I’ll heal…just going to look like I got hit by a truck for a week, I’d think.”

“You’re still beautiful to me, it goes without saying. Take what you will, you know, compliment coming from a blind man.”

She snorted and cracked a smile. “Ow,” she winced, touching her lower lip. “That was mean.”

“You deserve some of it,” he chastised. “Can you promise to try and not scare me like that again, please?”

“I’ll try…so…”

“So?”

“I’m tired…but I don’t think I’ll fall asleep any time soon,” she lamented.

“It’s alright,” he nodded. “I’m not going to be sleeping either. Come on,” he pulled her hand. “We can at least sit for a while.”

The pair moved to the sectional and sat in a more comfortable silence, Jen pressed against his side and his fingers tangled themselves in her hair.

“Wait,” she mumbled, groggy. “Are – are you...is that my shirt?”

 

A yelp pulled Murdock from the limbo of consciousness. He’d had a sneaking suspicion that Jen might succumb to the nightmare, even with him being there. She’d just physically battled the man that had terrorized her and haunted her dreams and what’s more, Jen had revealed that her nightmares had involved her father coming after him to get to her.

“Jen,” he asserted his voice firmly. “Jen, wake up. You’re safe.”  
_Ah…here it comes. She’s going to swing at me. Okay…think…got it._

When she lashed out, he used her momentum to roll them both on the floor and he did his best to sit her upright. “Come on, Jen. Come back to me; you’re okay…”

Her mind finally caught up and she blinked her way into lucidity, confused that they were sitting on the floor. “What…”

“It’s alright, you didn’t get me. I’ve got reflexes like a cat,” he joked. “But you need to calm down, okay? You’re safe…”

“Oh,” her voice fell. “It was a nightmare…and you were here…”

“I figured it might happen. Look; it doesn’t mean anything. It just means that it’s pressing on your mind right now.”

“I guess,” Jen wiped sweat from her brow and rubbed the back of her neck. “Christ…I’m sorry.”

“I want to try something with you, if you would humor me.”

Dazed, she waved him off. “Sorry, you couldn’t see that…”

“It happens,” he shrugged. “But…I’d like you to try meditating.”

“Meditating? You’re kidding,” her voice flat. “I had to do that when I was enrolled in martial arts.”

“It helps.”

“You meditate,” she quirked an eyebrow.

“Yeah…sometimes. Helps me clear my head.”

“Alright,” she replied skeptically.

They maneuvered around and crossed their legs under their bodies, straightening their backs. “Close your eyes,” he directed calmly. When she did as asked, he listened happily to her heart as it slowed down from its frenzied pace. “Now, listen to how I breathe. In…out…breathe with me…”

Jen did as she was told and tried her best to clear her mind. _But no…you’ve got to sit close to me…I can feel warmth radiating off your hands onto mine…there’s got to be two inches at most between us…calm down Jen. Jesus._ She tried for twenty minutes to completely clear her mind and focus to no avail. Granted, she felt calmer, but that could also have been from Matt’s proximity to her.

Matt chuckled, “You’re not trying, are you?”

“I was,” she defended herself.

“Uh-huh.”

Her fingers stretched out and connected with his in the dark causing him to jolt slightly. After a few moments, their palms were pressed together and she inhaled deeply, trying best to follow Matt’s instructions again. She could feel a gentle pressure against the skin of his palm as his heart pumped blood through his body. With eyes closed under heavy lids, she focused on what it felt like and how it was calming to her.

Not only had her breathing begun to match his but Jen had managed to synchronize her heartbeat to his. His eyes shot open in surprise and confusion. It wasn’t unheard of, to be sure. Musicians’ heartrates changed with music that they played and could often beat in time to certain tempi. Music, she’d divulged one night in conversation, had been a heavy influence in her life through middle and high school; and, she had played in college at his request. He felt her heart skip a beat, wondering what would have caused it.

“There,” she whispered. “Gotcha.”

“And how’d you do that,” he inquired with genuine curiosity.

She squeezed his hand, “I followed your heart. I can feel it…your heart’s strong.”

“So is yours,” he admitted. “I guess I got you, too.”

Jen stood up stiffly and pulled Murdock to his feet. “Come on, hot shot. I’ll get you to bed.”  
Matt let her lead him to his side of the bed and sat down. She ran her hand through his hair without thinking and tilted his face up to her.  
“I’ll get there eventually,” she held his face. “One day. I might be okay, but for now…I need to stumble around in the dark for a while so that I can appreciate the light there is in my life. But…like I said earlier…if after all of it, you want me around…or not…then…”

He squinted. “Jen, why wouldn’t I want you around? Because of baggage? Everyone’s got some sort of baggage; it comes with the territory of life. I’m not going anywhere. I told you…whatever this is…I choose this.”  
“Now, I think you’ve had enough self-doubt for one day,” he pulled her side of the covers back and offered a guiding hand to help her round the bed. “Come on, you need some sleep.”

“I may not sleep,” she countered.

“Yeah, well, we both said that earlier and see where that got us?”

Jen changed quickly from her robe into her sleep shirt and shorts before sliding into bed. With a quick jolt, Matt had pulled her across the bed to him. “I wasn’t going to sneak off anywhere,” she yelped. “He’s in police custody! Not like I’m going to go a make his life more miserable.”

“Right, because that’s the only reason I’d want you nearby.”

“Ah,” she nodded against his shoulder. “That’s right. You’re sweet on me.”

Matt laughed and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Oh yes, that. I’d forgotten.”

“You forgot? I can go sleep on the couch, you know,” she attempted to push away from him and felt a welcome pressure holding her in place. “No?”

“No,” he snorted. “You have to stay here. With me.”

“And why is that,” she challenged, staring down at this face, “huh?”

“Because I need you,” he replied quietly. “It’s lonely when you aren’t around.” He felt her skin grow warm against his and her heart beat faster. He leaned up and pressed his lips to hers softly.  
“There,” he added before settling down into his pillow. “In case you needed any reminding of why I want you to stay here.”

The fringe of her hair brushed against his neck when she bent her head down to his; his hand reaching up to play with the tresses as they created a curtain around his face.  
“That, right there,” she tapped his nose, “is going to get you in trouble one day.”

“One day? What makes you think it hasn’t gotten me into trouble before?”

“Has it?”

He shrugged and tried to play cool, “Maybe it has; maybe it hasn’t. But if you think that I’m going to tell you…”  
Matt was interrupted by a quick kiss and rendered temporarily speechless.

“Thought so,” she sounded pleased with herself. “In case you needed a reminder that I can see through some of your bullshit.”

“That was deserved,” he inhaled sharply with an apologetic smile. Jen settled back down into his side and draped her leg overtop his, her hand resting above his heart. He covered her knuckles with his palm and brought her fingers to his lips, placing a kiss on each one.

“What if I have another nightmare,” she asked pointedly, causing him to return her hand to his chest.

“Then you have another nightmare,” he replied. “You won’t hurt me. I think we’re okay on that front, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“But what if…”

“Stop,” he rubbed her shoulder. “You can’t keep thinking about the _what if’s_ , Jen. There’s right now. You won’t hurt me. I know that. And should you wake up with another nightmare, I’ll be right here to help you through it.”

“I guess my point is that you shouldn’t have to be,” she nuzzled into his shoulder.

Matt countered, “And my point is that I’m choosing to be. Go to sleep, Jen.”

 

“One night terror,” a baritone voice dragged her from sleep.

She tried reaching out to where she’d left him before succumbing to sleep, lamenting that he wasn’t in bed. He hadn’t been gone long; the sheets were still warm. Cracking her eyes open, she blinked relentlessly against the natural light bouncing around the room, squinting to see he was on the phone.

“Yeah…but she slept the rest of the night, so that’s something…No, I think she’s awake. I could ask her. Hang on…”  
“Jen, Foggy wants to know what you want for lunch later.”

A middle finger rose up in the air, a salute to her grogginess, and her sleep-laden voice grumbled out, “Can you hear this?”

Matt’s laugh rattled through the loft, setting a smile on her face. “I’m assuming she just flipped me off…or flipped you off… She did just wake up…yeah…I know she’s cranky when she gets up…but you wanted to know! …well…I – I’m the one that’s here with her; you get to hang up and go on your way…yeah, man…sounds good. See you around one.”

Jen flopped over and covered her head with the blanket, “It’s too early.”

“It’s after nine,” he informed, walking over to sit on the bed beside her. “I’ve been up for fifteen minutes.”

“A whole fifteen minutes,” she teased. “Good for you.”

“I was going to make us some coffee, but your coffee pot isn’t friendly towards me. I may have whispered some obscenities at it while you were sleeping.”

“Not friendly,” she popped her head out from under the covers. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s isn’t any braille on it.”

“Oh, shit…well, I feel like an asshole.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he kissed her forehead and walked to the bathroom. “You’ll get used to it.”

“What, not realizing what is and isn’t accessible to you or feeling like an asshole?”

“Both,” he jabbed, closing the door behind him to shower.

Jen mimicked him, bobbing her head back and forth while she slid out of bed to make something for breakfast. While gathering ingredients, she booted up her laptop after firing a text to Duquesne that they needed to talk.

Her computer hummed a happy little tune when the call came through and she answered off camera.

“ _Jennifer_ ,” he hailed. “ _I can’t see you? Is the feed okay?_ ”

“It’s fine, sir, I’m off camera making some breakfast…but I needed to talk to you about something of a personal nature and…I don’t think it could wait.”

_“You’re engaged to that Matthew fellow?!”_

“No,” she chuckled, “I’m not. Different kind of personal. When I come into view of the screen it’s going to be the first time you and I are going to see my face since I woke up yesterday.”

_“Okay…are you alright?”_

Jen slid into view and looked down into the portion of the screen that had his reaction and then to her feed. She looked like hell. Puffiness in her cheeks had gone down, but they were still tinged red and the beginnings of bruising around across her cheek bones and nose were pushing forward.  
_And that’s just what I can see on camera._

 _“Jesus Christ_ ,” he swore quietly. “ _Jennifer, are you alright?! What happened?_ ”

She inhaled through her nose and went back to looking at her appearance. “Before I tell you, I want you to know that if you don’t want to have me on as your employee after I tell you, I understand. But…I feel that you need to know that…well…”

“ _Jennifer, what the hell happened_?”

Jen steadied herself and recounted, succinctly, what had happened and why it had transpired. Duquesne sat at his desk, silent, nodding as she continued. His eyes remained focused on her while she spoke and when she had finished he didn’t say anything.

“There you have it, Mr. Duquesne; I figure that since you took a chance on me you deserve to know the truth of the matter. I understand if, based on the reputation of your company, you wish to terminate my preliminary contract so that it doesn’t tarnish what you have.”

“ _Tarnish what I have? You think I’m going to fire you because your father’s an asshole? I know we haven’t known each other for very long, Jen, but I would hope that you know that I value you as an individual and as an employee. If there are ever any problems…ever…you will have the full support of my legal team until that Murdock man of yours passes the bar. After that, we’ll see who has the better lawyer_.”

“Thank you, sir. I just wanted to let you know…and show you what’s been updated in the loft since we last spoke,” she picked up the laptop and began parading around the loft.

Matt came out of the bathroom quietly, a towel at his waist, having overheard most of the conversation and tried to duck behind the privacy screen before he came into view. To his dismay, Duquesne had spied him over the camera and called out to him.  
_Great…you potentially blew her standing with her boss. Why didn’t you take a shirt into the bathroom with you?_

“ _Is that young Murdock I see? Shirtless, no less?”_

Jen shrugged and continued the tour, unphased. “Probably is, sir. He stayed here at the loft with me last night after the incident, considering. I’m pretty sure that he just got out of the shower. I’m working, so I haven’t noticed.”

 _“Right, quite right; thank you, Matthew, for your generous and kind heart,”_ Duquesne called out.

“If he didn’t hear you, I’ll let him know after we end the call, sir. Now, the kitchen island is magnificent and the wet bar looks fantastic,” she showed off the kitchen.

_“Wonderful work, absolutely superb. What’s left?”_

“Actually, there’s not a lot left to do; your crew has been hyper-efficient in getting this place put together. As far as their finishes are concerned, they’re nearly done and then there’s whatever you would like me to do after they’ve finished.”

“ _I think, considering the work and the events that transpired, you should take the week off. I don’t want to see you clocking in any hours at all. And Matthew_ ,” he nearly shouted as Matt came into view looking for a glass of water.

Jen set the laptop down and guided him to it, angling his head down to the camera, “Uh, Mr. Duquesne, nice to hear your voice again. What can I do for you?”

“ _You take care of this young woman_ ,” he wagged a finger so Jen could see. “ _Make sure she stays out of trouble and gets some rest. I’ll inform the doorman downstairs to make you a key, should you want one and Jennifer is okay with it. If her father shows up…_ ”

“Not to worry, sir. He’ll be dealt with; I’ll call the police just in case she forgets to,” he elbowed her in the side.

“ _Very good. Jennifer, thank you for having this talk with me. Rest. Oh, I’ve just remembered, I was supposed to let you know of a gala I wanted you to attend tomorrow, but recent events would have me…”_

“I’ll go. That’s what makeup is for. What are the particulars?”

_“You can’t be serious! Mr. Murdock: please tell me she’s joking.”_

“I mean, she’s not. And I know better than to argue with her at this point,” he crossed himself and stood tall.

Jen raised an eyebrow and nodded, “You might as well start sending me the particulars so that I can go shopping for attire. Don’t pretend like you aren’t a little impressed, sir.”

_“Impressed? There’s impressed with your tenacity and then there’s foolhardy. Jennifer, I want you to rest and get well.”_

“I’ll rest after work is done. The world doesn’t stop revolving around the sun because I got into a scuffle with a dirtbag, Mr. Duquesne. I have a job to do. Send me the information to my phone and I’ll go.”

_“You can only go if you take Mr. Murdock with you.”_

Jen stood up and turned her head, eyes digesting his expression. “Well? Want to go to a gala with me tomorrow? I’m buying.”

“Yeah – yeah, I’ll go with you.”

_“For the record, I’m not keen on this idea. I was rather hoping that you would have said ‘no’, Matthew.”_

His hand rubbed the back of his neck, “Then you probably shouldn’t have brought it up. I mean, you should see the other guy. I’m not messing with a woman that can take care of herself. No, sir.”

Jen smirked and nudged him with her hip. “There you have it. Two incredibly bright fools reporting for duty, sir,” Jen saluted the camera. “Let me know who I need to chat up and impress and I’ll get right to work.”

 _“Fine,”_ he sighed fingers tapping inanely on his desk. _“But then you take a week off and only call me if there’s a problem or you want to update me on the loft.”_

“You got it, boss man.”

 _“And I’m serious about taking the week off. If I catch you working, I’ll come down to New York to put you in time out_.”

“Yes, sir; thank you. I’ll let you know how the gala goes when I get home tomorrow and then I’ll call a week after that. Sound fair?”

_“Bossing me around now, Jennifer?”_

She smirked, “Only because I work for the best.”

With the call finished, Jen turned to face Murdock, still clad in a towel but wearing a t-shirt. She motioned to his outfit, not caring that he couldn’t see her gesture. “Uh…what’s with your choice of attire?”

“He saw me without a shirt on! I didn’t want him to get any ideas and possibly think poorly of you.”

“Right,” she smirked. “I think your decency is safe, as is my reputation as far as he’s concerned. Now, give me your hand so that I can show you something.”

He did as asked and found that she was outlining the coffee machine to him, telling him what each of the buttons did and where they were located in relation to the others before moving on to other appliances in the kitchen. She spent the next hour combing the entire apartment, outlining what every switch and button did.

“Thank you for that,” he nodded. “That was kind of you.”

“A lot of the light switch plates will have textural feel to them; the temporary ones are on right now until they come in. You might have been a little inspiration behind those design choices.”

“Really?”

“When I was designing the place,” she walked back to the kitchen to finish chopping up fruit for breakfast, “it needed to be functional to the person with all senses; but I wanted you to not feel lost if you were ever here…so…there are some things that’ll be added soon that you might find helpful. Like light switch plates.”  
“What,” she asked, catching him smiling. “What did I do?”

“Being kind and thoughtful. Not a lot of people think of those things, even with knowing someone like me.”

“Thank God there’s only one of you,” she teased. “The world would explode from an overabundance of sarcasm and sass.”

“Ha ha. What’s for breakfast?”

“Parfaits because I’m lazy and don’t want to heat up the apartment, if that’s alright with you.”  
She hopped up on the counter and handed him his bowl. “The stools should be getting here soon,” she informed. “And the dining table and chairs. They’ve been on back order.”  
Matt set his bowl back onto the counter and stood in front of her, eyes focused on where her voice resonated best.  
“Your face is doing that thing again.”

“I figured,” his tone smug. “You got quiet all of the sudden.”

“There’s a handsome gentleman in front of me that recently got done paying me compliments. I’m not allowed to bask in those?”

“Well…”

Jen had grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him to her, glancing her lips off of his. He blinked lazily, a welcome haze filling his head as his senses swam in the essence of her. “Morning.”

“Morning,” her voice husky.

“On second thought,” he drew her against him, a leg on either side of his waist and his hands snaking around her back, “I’d rather have this instead.”

_Atta girl, Jen. You’ve been dreaming about this for months. Kitchen counter wasn’t necessarily your first choice; but damn. What could possibly make this go wrong? Nothing. He’s into you. You’re into him. He doesn’t hold your past against you and….aw fuck, you ruined it._

He felt her grimace involuntarily when his hand wandered over a sensitive area on her back that her father had left from the fight. Matt immediately stopped, apologetic.  
“I shouldn’t have done that; I’m sorry…”

One of her fingers covered his mouth to silence him. “I didn’t stop you. It’s not your fault. I’m sure I’ll be figuring out just how sore I am over the next few days.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, Jen; that’s the last thing I want.”

“I know,” she stoked his cheek. “But you can’t protect me from everything, including the normal mischief I get myself into; you’d go mad. I’ll heal. Things happen; you don’t need to coddle me, I promise.” His head bent down and she placed a light kiss to his forehead. “ _‘Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt_ ’, Mr. Murdock.”

“And who said that?”

“Shakespeare in _Measure for Measure_. I’m made of stronger stuff than glass and I don’t break so easily. You don’t have to treat me that way. In fact, I’d rather you not. ”

“And here I was trying to be nice.”

Jen handed him his bowl and began eating from hers. “I think that we both will know when we are each at our breaking point and know that will be the time to try and be gentle. We both have had our different hells and came through the fire stronger. It might take us a little while to see it…I mean, it took me meeting you to realize I was good enough at anything.” Matt finished his food in silence while he listened, intent on her words.  
“And if you should ever be at that precipice, I promise you that I’ll be there to help in whatever way I can. I don’t try to parallel my problems to yours because…because they’re different and I wouldn’t wish what happened to me on anyone. But they are my problems; my history…and it’s shaped me into who I am. Can I really…truly hate that?”

“You didn’t let that define you or get the better of you. It doesn’t mean you don’t have to not recognize how shitty it was.”

“Neither did you. For all the jokes and wisecracks that I make…or even that you make; you haven’t let it define who you are, Matt. So don’t doubt things…don’t second guess so much. You have an inane intuition to the things around you. Trust in it more. And trust me when I say I’ll be fine,” she replied, hopping off the counter and placing  her bowl in the sink.

“Not exactly the way I wanted the morning to go…”

“Let’s go out into the city and walk around. It’ll be good for us both and then we can figure us out as we go.”

 

By late evening, was beginning to feel tired. They had easily walked around for three or four miles before and after lunch and her energy was still humming.

“Jen,” Matt placed a hand on her leg, stilling it from bouncing. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she snorted.

“Nothing? I think that’s a lie. What are you thinking about? Is it the gala? You dwelling on it isn’t helping.”

“Well…no…nevermind…it’s ridiculous.”

He put his hands on his waist and raised a skeptical brow, his voice stern, “Jesus, just spit it out.”

“I want to teach you some things,” her words quick. “I’ve been stewing on it since you got hit…and – and I want you to be able to take care of yourself some. So I want to teach you some stuff; but I don’t want you to get pissed at me…because I wouldn’t take it that easy on you.”

“You’re kidding? That’s what’s been eating at you since lunch?”

“Uh…maybe?”

He sighed, “So if, and I mean if, I let you teach me…you’ll chill out?”

“Probably,” her leg bouncing again.

“Alright. Fine. And what are you teaching me?”

“Some grappling things,” she jumped up off the couch and began shoving furniture and boxes out of the way. “If you get knocked to the ground…it’s the things you can do while you’re there.”

“Right,” he shrugged.  
_Oh. This ought to be good. I just have to make her believe that she’s teaching me some things. How hard could it be?_

“How much do you want me to be an asshole?”

He laughed, “You said you weren’t going to take it easy on me.”

“Alrighty,” she sighed with a nod. “On your knees, Matt.”

“Shouldn’t you buy me dinner first?”

She playfully shoved the back of his head after he was kneeling, rounding to do the same in front of him. “To be fair, I’m pretty sure I have.”  
“Okay, I’m going to grab you and I want you to try and get me off of you.”

“You’re going to…”

Jen had already launched herself across the short distance and wrapped her body around his, pinning him to the floor.  
“What do you do, Matt?” she growled at him, his limbs flailing around.

His hands dug at her arms and he did his best to pry her off of him, but her legs began to constrict around his abdomen. He twisted quickly and shoved at her, pushing her off of him. The screeching sound of skin skidding across the floor echoed in the empty loft.

“Good,” she huffed. “But you took too long; I could have easily landed a handful of hits to your side, face and God knows where else. Try figuring out how to break the vice rather than throw me off. It might help. I’m going to come after you again. Try to be better and if I feel like you’re purposely holding back, I’m going to teach you a lesson the same way I was taught.”

“Alright,” he chuckled sitting back up. “Come on.”

Jen snaked her arms around his and shoved his face down to the floor, slamming his torso flat onto the ground. She felt him begin to move in a way that would have readily thrown her off, but he hesitated and continued to struggle. Annoyed, she rolled off him and got back on her knees.

“So have I improved or are you…”

_CRACK._

He’d sensed an open hand coming but didn’t think she’d follow through. _That was a mistake_.  
His left cheek stung and momentarily he saw stars. “What the hell, Jen?”

“I told you,” she breathed, “if I thought you were bitching out, you’d learn the way I learned. You could have gotten out of that and you didn’t. Figure it out. Again!”

Jen propelled herself forward wrapping her arms around his torso and digging her shoulder into his chest, knocking him onto his back. When she tried to pin him down by sitting on his chest, Matt rolled her off balance pushed her across the room.

“Huh,” she panted wiping her arm across her forehead. “Interesting.”

“What?” Matt rolled over and pushed himself upright. “Wha-what’s interesting?”

“Oh, I’ll let you know in a minute,” she grinned. _I think you learned some of this at some point. Which means that there’s a whole level to Matthew that he may not realize he’s got…okay…here we go…time to be mean…_  
“Ready?”

“No, I think we should stop.”

“Wrong answer.” Jen walked over and pushed Matthew from behind. Instead of falling forward, Matt rolled and swept her legs out from under her with his arm. Her backside hit the floor with a thud, but she’d already begun trying to wrap herself around him in order to subdue his movements.

 _No you don’t. Not this time. You got lucky once because I got lazy. That’s not going to happen again.  
_Using his arm as a pry bar he was able to peel her arms from his chest, but it made her legs dig into his sides. When he tried to do the same to her legs, Jen used her arms and hands to crawl backwards, dragging him with her.

Her body was beginning to protest when he began resisting some of her moves and using her leverage against her. The only thing she could think of was to start trying to actually win as if it were a match. A quick reset of her position enabled her to grab his wrist, his response to pull her closer to him gave her delight.  
_Oh. Most definitely learned a few things. Looky looky at Matt. That’s my boy._

He felt the constriction at his waist slack and he pivoted on his hip, reaching out for her when suddenly she was perched atop him and her hands shoved his shoulders down into the floor, hard.

“Pinned,” she proclaimed out of breath.

A strong arm swept across hers causing them to buckle at the elbow and he flipped her onto her back, pinning her down to the floor. “Not quite.”

“That’s what I thought,” Jen panted heavily. She tapped the floor in surrender and patted his thigh in congratulations. “Why didn’t you tell me you learned how to do this before we started?”

“What are you talking about,” he groaned, crawling off of her to sit and lean against the couch.

“I mean, I know you’re smart and all,” her arms flopped down to her side making a satisfying smacking sound against the wooden floor, “but what you just did isn’t the body’s natural reaction to that pin. You were taught it.”

“Oh,” Matt ran a hand through his hair, face flushed. “Uh. That.”

“Yeah,” her breathing beginning to return to normal. “That.”

“I’d learned some when I was a kid.”  
_Is it a lie? No. Is it really ambiguous? You fucking bet. Please don’t pry. Please don’t pry…_

“Huh. Should have told me,” she smirked, closing her eyes. “I wouldn’t have gone so easy on you in the first pass.”

“Easy?” he rolled his eyes. “That was you taking it easy?”

“A little.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I don’t ever usually start the fight,” he heard her shoulders shrug against the floor. “I get hit and then I finish it.”

“So what was the fight club in February?”

“That was different,” she sat upright, hugging her legs. “That was for Mr. Bonner and JJ. When it comes time for me to protect myself…that’s how it goes down.”

“Why do you take the first hit? I don’t understand that.”

“I guess…well…I guess it’s my way of justification,” she pondered. “If I get hit, then I’m protecting myself. I know that I have some sort of responsibility to retaliate, not initiate.”

“Hmm,” his head reclined back.

Like a penguin whose legs had gone to sleep, Jen gracelessly scrambled to her feet, ventured into the kitchen, and returned with a cold six-pack and a bag of ice. She opened two beers and handed one to her grappling partner before pressing the ice against his cheek.

“Sorry about that,” she offered. “I mean…I had a feeling you were going to block it…but you didn’t.”

“What makes you say that?” he took a swig from the bottle and pressed the bag to his face. “I couldn’t see it coming.”

“Yeah…that’s the weird part of it,” she rubbed the back of her head. “There was…I dunno, like, thirty seconds there where…I forgot…and it felt like you were going to stop me.”

Matt choked on his beer. _Holy shit…no way…how could she have possibly known? I was being so damn careful._  
“What, like I’m some sort of superhero or some bullshit like that?”

“No,” she drank deeply from her beer. “I dunno. It’s stupid… When I was learning as a kid…one of the things I got really good at was anticipating moves because I could feel the opponent’s body revving up to do something…like I was getting a preview.”

“That’s creepy.”

“Muscles flex or relax before different movements, bones shift; breathing changes…and I noticed some of those with you and…I guess…when you began moving and changed your mind… I did the same thing my teacher used to do to me. Sorry.”

“Your instructor hit you?”

“Sometimes,” she knelt down and lifted the ice from his skin. “She was strict and tough. Kinda mean, now that I think about it. But she didn’t give a toss if you didn’t want to do something…you’d figure it out the right way or be sore for a long while doing it the wrong way…  And then when it wasn’t her, the very illicit fight club we ran was a harsh teacher, too.”  
Three long, red stripes contrasted against the paler skin. “Looks like I stung you more than anything. You’ve got some marks from my fingers. Sorry. Again.”

Matt’s hands pulled the back of her legs toward him so that she was now sitting in front of him. She had made an odd sound of indignation that he thought cute and he smirked.  
“That was a sting? I’m impressed.”

“Well, I’d say you don’t want to be on the end of a full blown hit, but I hit you pretty hard in February in my sleep.”

His neck rolled in lazy circles. “It was more surprise than anything. It was strong, don’t get me wrong…but from what I’ve heard…you can pack a punch. But your power,” he patted her leg roughly, “is here. I just might bruise.” Murdock gingerly pressed around his torso. A subtle, radiating ache was becoming more prevalent where she’d had him in a scissor lock.  
_I don’t think I ever want to be on the bad end of those legs. Damn._

“Yeah…sorry,” she inhaled sharply. “Habit.”

“Habit? Is that how you’d win?”

Jen finished her beer and cracked open another, nodding. “I, uh…just nodded yes. Sorry. But…yeah…I’d take the half point deduction and hit the mat, being able to pivot on my hip so that I was always watching the opponent from wherever they came from. Once they got close, get them to the ground…scissor lock and squeeze the life out of them, essentially…then an arm bar for good measure. Lots of amateur opponents got out that way. That’s why they started putting me with people bigger than me.”

“Because you were good?”

“Because I was relentless. There was one time…I was just starting middle school, I think…they put me with a blue belt…he was two levels ahead of me…but he jabbed me in the kidney pretty hard before we hit the mat. He was trying to rile me up, I know…but I got mad. Once the match started, I knew I had to win.”

“What happened?”

“I got a hold of his arm…and I started pulling and he wouldn’t tap out…I kept telling him to but he wouldn’t. I dislocated his shoulder. But I made sure that before he could tap, I hyperextended his elbow, too.”

“Wow. Sounds like he probably deserved it.”

“He might have,” she tilted her beer in Matt’s direction. “Speaking of strong…not too shabby yourself there, Murdock.”

“I’ve been working out a little.”

“Uh-huh,” she smirked. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“Next time?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she chimed in, handing him his next beer. “I need practice and you’re the best partner I’ve had.”

“Are you saying that because you’ve never really had a partner before. You don’t play well with others.”

“No…not exactly…maybe. But the point still stands,” she laughed. “You know what you’re doing and as long as you’re comfortable with it…I could use the practice. And I play nicely with you, don’t I?”

Matt pondered for a moment about her proposal. _It would be good for me to practice, too._  
“I suppose, if it’ll be beneficial for the both of us. Though, I’m going to suggest actually using a mat and not your loft’s floor. You skidded across the floor pretty hard.”

She examined her forearms and made an approving sound. “No brush burn or anything. Awesome.”

After collecting the empty bottles and tossing them into the trash, Jen returned and asked for his hand, helping him to his feet. Jen had put on some music quietly to play in the background as the pair sat on the couch, decompressing from their sparring.

_Odd…isn’t it? This feeling…or mix of them, I suppose. I’m sore, that’s for fucking sure. But – but it’s not…bad. It’s the kind of pain I’d get after a good match in fight club. It’s…good. Satisfying. I like it. Matt doesn’t seem to mind, either…but maybe I need to ease off…don’t ruin a good thing…  
He’s strong though. Stronger than he lets on and that’s probably a good thing. Jesus, Jen…keep it in your pants, will you? You aren’t that riled up, are you? Calm the fuck down. Just enjoy being near him._

“You should play for me sometime.”

“Play what?”

Matt snorted and placed the bag of ice on the back of his neck. “Your tuba.”

“My tuba,” she reiterated, flatly. “You want to hear me play tuba?”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “I’ve heard recordings, but it’s different when it’s live sound.”

“You can feel it,” she agreed, draping her legs over his and lying back on the couch. “Probably more physical for you though, right?”

“Sometimes. I can feel it in my chest or…when it’s strong I can feel it on my skin.”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, fatigue beginning to get the best of her. “I know what you mean.”

“Before you go to sleep on me,” he warned, “anything moved from here to the bed?”

“No, why?”

“So I don’t trip and die, duh,” he stuck his tongue out at her.

“Ah,” she yawned. “No. Just don’t go into the kitchen. That’s where I moved stuff.”

“I’m serious about the music,” a hand rested on her leg. “I want to hear you play.”

“M’kay. Do you play anything?”

“I know some piano,” Matt said softly. “I learned some along the way.”

“Me, too…I’m not very good at it,” she admitted. “But, I can do enough that I can play and write it down.”

“You compose?”

“Some. Ideas, mainly, very seldom is there anything ever complete…but I did…nah. Nevermind.”

“What?”

“It’s silly.”

“I doubt that. Come on; tell me. What have you been writing?”

“Something for JJ…a lullaby. It started with me humming it and she’d fall asleep to it. And then I started transcribing it at the piano…someday I’ll put it together for an orchestra to play and record it for her…one day. When she’s older, you know?”

“Hmm,” he nodded. “To remember.”

“I play saxophone, too. Not as well…but it makes me happy sometimes.”

“Really? Why?”

“Dunno. Something about it…it’s kind of liberating and it’s not like brass but…it’s like home, too…I’m not sure. Dom wanted to learn at one point so I learned so I could teach him…but…he never really got into it.”

“Not too much of that in the symphony, is there?”

“No. Tuba kept me busy for that, at least. And I was able to make some money on it as I got older.”

“Dominic says that you’re good at it,” he replied kindly, lifting her legs and placing them on the couch so that he could stand. “Which brings me back to my previous point: I’d like to hear it sometime.”

“Alright, alright,” she relented. “Someday, I’ll play for you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“You have to go out tomorrow so that you can get a dress for the party.”

“Yeah, yeah; I know…”

“Have an idea of what you’re looking for?”

“Nope.”

Matt moved about the loft quietly putting things away from dinner having ignored her warning and had begun changing for bed when he heard soft snoring from the couch. He returned with blankets for them both, draping one over her exhausted form before stretching out on the couch himself, his head beside hers.

Turning to face her ear, Murdock called softly, “Jen?” When she failed to stir he continued whispering with exalted reverence.  
“You’d probably laugh, you know, at what I’m going to say…not because you think me an idiot…but…because you’d be embarrassed…but this is hard for me…”  
“So, I think you need to know…in this secret space between here and the dram of dreams…I want you to know that – that I admire everything you are. I admire everything you will be and I can’t imagine what I’d be like without knowing you.”

He swallowed hard, tucking strands of her hair behind her ear. “My life’s been shitty at times. But you, Jen…you’re a silver lining in the dark and one of the better things to happen to me. I think – I think I’m a better man because of you…because I _want_ to be a better man. Not just the parts of me you know…be everything I am. Wholly.”  
“You said once, that you’re my mirror and…I – I think you’re right. You show me myself: everything that I am and could be and sometimes…it terrifies me. You’ve made me critical of who I am and you force me to think about what I must do to be better…at everything. I know; it’s silly. But when you say that I make you want to be better…I make you realize your worth…then maybe – maybe you’re more me than I am. Maybe I’m more you than you are. Maybe we’ve been tested and found to be the same.”  
“Jesus, Jen,” he sighed, eyes closing. “One evening of talking to you and – and I knew that you had something I wanted, even for a few hours. But…it wasn’t enough, was it? I asked you to come back to me. And you did.”  
“It wasn’t _something_ I needed…it was you. It’s not _wanted_ , either, is it? It’s need. I need you. Guide me where I need to go, Miss MacDougall. I will follow you anywhere in the dark because… because…it’s – it’s not so dark with you here. It’s like…I can almost see the sky again… that’s what you are to me.”

It was subtle, but the corners of her mouth pulled upward slightly and she rolled on her side to face him; a radiating warmth traveling down his body. Murdock thought that maybe, tonight more than any other night he’d whispered to her in her sleep, her subconscious had heard him and now she’d know.

 

Thirst pulled her from a comfortable slumber. There was no telling how long she’d been sleeping with her mouth agape and more than likely snoring. Her already cracked and split lib throbbed in protest. Confusion flooded her mind when she opened her eyes and saw Matthew’s face upside down from hers. Upon closer inspection she realized he’d opted to sleep head to head rather than make his way to the bed.

Deftly, Jen made her way into the kitchen for water. There was something to be said for water that was drank like this in the dark: it always tasted sweeter and more fulfilling, like it was the first and last drink one was ever going to take. She drank deeply, her blanket bunched over her shoulders and dragging on the ground behind her like a cape.  
Knowing that it would only aid in dehydrating her further, Jen poured out a portion of rum into her glass and sipped it on her way back to the couch.

Matt inhaled sharply, panic on his face, and reached for where she had been. “I’m here,” Jen whispered, padding closer to him.

“Mmm,” he mumbled reaching out for her. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine; thirsty.” Jen sat on the edge of the couch nearest to his hip. “Are _you_ alright?”

“Why?”

Her hand wrapped around his, the skin cooler than normal. “You look upset. What were you dreaming about?”

“You were gone.”

“Oh… I’m here.”

“And it was my fault,” he rubbed his face.

Jen handed him what was left of her glass and urged him to sit upright to drink it. He quirked an eyebrow up as the smell hit him fully in the face. “A bit early, isn’t it?”

“Or late, depending on how you look at it,” she offered with a hint of sarcasm.

He gulped the last of it down and handed her the empty glass. “You’re not wrong.”

“Why was it your fault I was gone?” her tone kind.

 _How do I tell you? Can I? …that you left because I… I’m afraid that you’ll abandon me and so I pushed you away…_  
“I pushed you away for some reason.”

“Good luck with that,” she joked, placing the empty glass on the table. “I would think we’d need a major falling out for that to happen. You’re stuck with me, Mr. Murdock.”  
A pang of pain nagged at her heart when relief washed over his face after hearing her words. _How could you think I’d cut you out of my life?_

“Hey,” she whispered leaning over him, “You chose to stay with me yesterday. I choose everything that you are.”

“Everything?”

“Everything,” she repeated. “The good, the bad, the exciting; the boring. All of it.”

 _Kiss her, Matt, you idiot. If you don’t, you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life. Now, genius. Before the moment’s gone._  
Matt pushed himself the rest of the way upward so that his mouth crashed into hers, his free hand cupping her cheek. Jen enveloped her blanket around the them and wrapped her arms around his neck. A ripple of glee flooded through him when she deepened their kiss and her teeth raked against his lower lip.

“Not that I’m complaining,” she whispered, resting her forehead against his. “But what was that for?”

“Making sure you were real and this wasn’t a dream,” his voice hoarse.

She situated herself onto his lap and ran a hand through his hair when his arms wrapped about her waist. “It still could be,” her voice plain. “What makes you believe it’s not?”  
Jen could hear Matt’s heart thundering in his chest and when she inhaled, an essence of soap and sweat filled her head as notes of rum danced on her tongue. Her own heart had begun to betray her, pounding loudly in her ears; her chest rising and falling quickly.

“You’re here,” his tongue swept over his lips. “I can feel you…I can hear you and see you… You’re different when I’m dreaming.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” she smirked when he pulled her closer to him.

“Dreaming doesn’t compare.”

“Tell me.”

He inhaled quickly through his nose and held his breath, contemplating if he should. A hand snaked its way up toward her face and hovered around it without touching her skin.  
“It’s like this…you can sense my hand’s there…but…I’m not touching you…and – and when you come to me in dreams…it’s a lot like this. I get flashes of you, kind of…a recall of your voice or your perfume…and then it’s gone…only my idea of what you look like to buffer the rest.”

Jen leaned into his hand and placed a quick kiss onto his palm. “Here I am. Look.”

Matt’s fingers grazed across her face, leaving hot streaks of fire in their wake. It felt like the skin he touched was emanating energy and she was coming to life. Her perfume was subtle: the scent of his city and those spices mixed with the rum he knew that was still sitting on her lips, waiting to be tasted again, was hindering him from thinking clearly. Hands began to trace every inch of her that he dared to explore, the distorted vision of her becoming more defined.

_If you were to ask what women felt like, most would probably say soft…but that’s not entirely true…I mean…yes…but here…on her upper arms…it’s different… it’s a little rougher in patches and her forearms…her hands and the bandages on her knuckles…I can feel subtleties from old scars. Chapters can be told on the skin if you know how to look for them…how to see them…injuries both new and old writing tales of victory and defeat.  
And there…the way she moves and breathes…finding every place that makes her heart race, makes her giddy; makes her breathing hitch in her throat. That could take an eternity and I’d be more than happy to dwell in it._

Jen made an odd sound in her throat that that pulled him from his thoughts and back to some sense of composure. To his surprise and ardent desire, Jen had lifted her shirt over her head and replaced his hands against her skin.  
To her, it felt as if air had passed through her body for the first time when she placed his hands on her sides.  
“I want you to know,” her voice had become dark; a tremor, a flutter in her sound. “I want you to see me.”

There was no hesitation. Matt Murdock had wanted to know everything he could about her for nearly a year. His hands took their time, deliberate and methodical in practice, mapping out every inch of her from the hem of the shorts hanging at her waist, to the crown of her head, the swell of her breasts; to the tips of her fingers.

Her eyes closed and she let herself be present in the moment. His skin, which had been cool minutes ago, felt akin to a blast furnace and she wanted nothing more than to stay like this for the rest of her life. If she were to be burned tonight, she’d be damned if any other human being aside from Matt Murdock was going to have the right to do so. Swimming in her thoughts, she hadn’t realized that his hands had begun digging into the skin of her back, applying pressure to tender muscles from both the fight and their sparring match.

Jen groaned in appreciation, eyes ripping to open to stare at a face expressing both darkness and mischief. “Matt,” her voice conveying a weak warning.

“I thought so,” a slow smile ebbing into view, hands continuing to prod and knead at her back. _Your body’s talking to me, Jen. It can’t lie to me, either._

“If you keep this up,” she breathed, shifting her shoulder down so that his thumb could dig into the crook of her neck, “I’m not liable for what happens to you.”

He paused, stilling himself. “Are you asking me to stop?”

“No.”

Murdock nodded and continued his work treating the body before him. “Good. I’m enjoying myself.”

“That’s not fair,” she hissed happily as the knot dissipated from her neck.

“Close your eyes and let me do this for you,” his nose brushing against hers. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make this _fair_ later. Just…let me see what I can do.”

MacDougall didn’t argue; she couldn’t. Jen couldn’t remember the last time that she’d been actually able to use a massage therapist. Nor could she recall anyone being so intimate with her in any capacity. Her arms found their way around his neck again and she nuzzled her cheek against his. Strong hands guided her legs about his waist and adjusted the blanket around them so that she could feel cool air against her back before going back to their original task.

He would whisper words of warning or encouragement into her ear before he would work on a new area. The heat from her breath clung to the skin at his neck when she would hiss in apprehension or sigh in relief and he found it gratifying. They both were painfully aware of what her reactions were doing to him, but Jen said nothing about the added pressure digging into her thigh.

_I hadn’t really planned on any of this. But knowing that she is here and real after the dream…it’s jarred something awake in me. There…she’s wincing but if I stop, it’ll be worse…in order for some of the tension to be released, I have to keep working the muscle. And that…there…feeling her move beneath my palms…I wonder if that’s what gods feel like breathing life into clay…to have that power and effect…to shape what’s in my hands…_

Once the last bit of tension had been freed from her back Jen whispered his name softly against his shoulder. His name and the way that she had said it, he knew what she was asking and his body strained against his mind for what she was giving him permission to do. “Not tonight,” he whispered, his hands now gently moving in circles against her skin.  
“Not tonight,” he said again, voice rough, trying to convince himself that this was what he wanted.  
“I…just… will you just let me hold you?”


	13. Dusk and Twilight

_Saturday_

The loft was still dark, but the early bustle of New York could be heard through the panes of glass. It had been a feat to untangle her limbs from his body and like a serpent, she writhed her way out of Matt’s grasp then having silently moved to the bedside table for her phone. There were texts from Duquesne concerning the evening, a few from Foggy checking in on her; and one single text from Dominic.

 

_To: M_

_Alright, I gave you your requested_  
_36hrs. Now._  
_Woman._  
_What the actual fuck was all_  
_of that?_

_To: Dom_

_Danny will have some explaining to do,_  
_that’s for damn sure. That little shit._  
_Uh…you’re going to be mad._  
_But I got into a fight._  
_But please don’t call. Matt’s asleep._

Jen walked into the bathroom, hands rummaging through her makeup bag and pulling out the warpaint that she thought she could use tonight to hide her battle scars. Fresh eyes moved over her topless torso, inspecting the damage her father had done. The scratches to her legs had scabbed over nicely and most likely wouldn’t scar. She’d need to change the bandages on her hands after breakfast and check to see how seriously she’d ripped her knuckles open. Most of the swelling had gone down, but dark blotches of purple and blue littered her skin. The bruises on her back and shoulder were darker than the others and would need the most attention pending what she wore this evening.  
_Well, shit. Who’s going to help me with that son of a bitch?_

Her phone vibrated in her hand, her eyes rolling with a shake of her head.

 

_To: M_

_Oh, I forgot. Pretty boy._  
_you actually care about someone enough to_  
_let them sleep now.  Wowwwww._  
_So. you got into a fight.  why._

_To: Dom_

_They hit Matt. And I was angry._

_To: M_

_Someone hit him? what kind_  
_of sick asshole would do something_  
_like that? the dude’s fucking blind!_  
_i hope you beat their ass._

_To: Dom_  
_It was him._

_To: M_

_fuck._

_To: Dom_

_Yeah. I know. I…uh…did the thing._

_To: M_

_what thing? you do a lot of things._

_To: Dom_

_You remember 8 th grade?_  
_With Josh?_  
_I did that._  
_Again._

_To: M_

_are you fucking kidding._  
_you better be._  
_we aren’t kids anymore._  
_You can’t just do that shit. that’s wrong_  
_that’s it. I’m calling._

_To: Dom_

_Jesus. Alright. Hang on._  
_I’ll call in a second._  
_Let me just get outside. Asshole._

 

MacDougall walked back to the couch and grabbed her shirt from the floor, sliding it over her head. Matt had begun to stir and rolled over, wrapping his arms around an accent pillow and frowned.

“You left,” he mumbled, groggy.

Jen bent down and placed a kiss in his hair. “I need to call Dom. I’ll be back.”

He groaned, stretching under the blanket. “What time is it?”

“Early.” Matt had reached for her and brushed a hand against her leg, producing a shiver of delight to wrack through her body. “Go back to sleep; I’ll come back.”

“Hmpf,” he snorted with a nod. “You better.”

She slipped on her tennis shoes, nabbed her keys, and headed for the roof. If she were to get a tongue lashing from Dominic, she’d rather do it basking in the starry lights of the city. It was comfortable and cool with a slight breeze coming in to make the hair on her arms stand on end.

“Alright, let me have it. Come on,” she lamented. “Tell me I’m a piece of shit.”

_“I mean, you are; but that’s not why I was going to say it.”_

Perplexed, her eyes narrowed at the projection of Dom she was conjuring in her head. “Seriously? I came up here for you to not yell at me?”

_“I’m not your parent, Mac. I’m your friend. And I’m here to support you; even if it means telling you off about doing some dumb shit. Melissa and the baby are sound asleep.”_

“Ah, so you _can’t_ yell at me. Got it. That’ll make this worse.”

_“Oh. Most definitely. See, you can deflect some of this shit when I yell. But if I’m quiet, you’re really going to have to listen to what I say.”_

“Yeah…shit…”

 _“Look_ ,” he groaned, _“Your father’s a piece of shit. And I’m not saying he didn’t deserve whatever it is that you dished out to him…because, let’s face it…you’re not in jail and you’re on the phone with me. But, Mac: one day you’re going to pull something like this and it’s going to backfire so spectacularly that I’m going to be getting a phone call to bail you out of jail and you know I don’t make that kind of money. Because…because honestly… if you’re going to mess up, you’re gonna go big or go home.”  
“Now you listen to me. I love you. But I am seriously pissed at you right now. How you could justify doing that and using Matt…”_

“I didn’t use Matt!” her voice cracked, eyes wide in disbelief.

_“…you did. Whether you consciously knew it or not, you used him to propel your fucking holier-than-thou, knight in shining armor bullshit. You used him getting hurt as an excuse to haul off on Malcolm. I’d take a wild guess that asshole is in the hospital?”_

“Yeah,” her fingertips dug into her temple.

 _“Uh-huh. Mac, I’m not mad that you put him in the hospital. From what Foggy texted me yesterday after he had lunch with you, it sounds like you were able to scratch the surface of what he did to you. What I’m pissed at is that you have manipulated the events around you for your own reasoning. You didn’t need an excuse to beat him. Fucking Christ, I was willing to help you in the park! But you sent us all away and kept Matt with you.”_  
_“Do you realize it looks like you did that on purpose? I know you didn’t. But, Mac. You’re way too fucking smart to keep doing this shit.”_  
 _“Stop finding reasons to justify your actions after the fact, Mac. Christ.”_

“Wow. You really have a way of ripping my heart out,” her hand moving to cover her mouth and her tongue pushing against her back teeth.

_“Good. I hope you hear me loud and clear this time. Because I don’t want to have this conversation again. Next time you get into a fight, don’t start with an excuse of a reason. Be fucking honest with yourself and be honest with the rest of us.”_

“Fine.”

_“So. Now that you’re thoroughly pissed at me, this is the part of the conversation where I apologize for making you feel this way, but I sternly remind you that I care about what happens to you and offer to hang out with you later… and you say, ‘Yes, but of course’ using some big words and then we drink, call it a day, and go back to being besties. Yeah. So, let’s pretend that just happened and I want to come see you today. What are your plans?”_

Jen wanted to be angry at Dom, but he was right about nearly everything. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “Yeah, yeah. I have to go to some dinner…dance…thing…for Duquesne. I need to get a dress. And I’m going to need some help painting…”

_“Why can’t Matt…right…blind… So just like old times when we were trying to hide bruises from our parents and teachers?”  
“You know, I’m still getting over the fact he can’t see. Not once did you mention that. At all. You asshole.”_

“I mean, it was pretty funny. The look on everyone’s face when you called him a douche…that was spectacular.”

_“First of all, fuck you. Second of all, go fuck yourself. And third, fuck you…again. I can’t believe you. He probably thinks I’m the biggest asshole on the planet.”_

“Nah,” she waved him off with a smile. “I forget he can’t see sometimes. He’s rather intuitive and can notice things before I can …and it makes it easy to forget. And then there’s times where he can’t use the coffee maker without braille tags on it that kick me in the nuts to remind me he can’t see.”

_“Whatever. Asshole. What time do you want me to come over so that you can drag me around shopping? And do you want Melissa to come with? Her aunt and uncle would probably watch JJ.”_

“Uh, sure…how about around eleven? That’ll give me time to scout for a shop or two online to help make things fairly painless. And I’m tired. I want to get some sleep.”

_“Tired? What were you doing last night?”_

“He’s on the couch, for your information.” _I mean. He is. Doesn’t matter that I was, too…_

 _“Uh-huh. Can you two just start dating already? Jesus. You practically are anyway.”_ Jen rolled her eyes. _  
“Whelp,”_ he accented the ‘P’ loudly, “ _This has been fun. But it’s nearly five and I want to try and get another half hour of sleep before JJ needs fed. I’ll be over around eleven because bestie duty calls. I’ll ask Melissa if she wants to tag along. I’ll see you later, beastie.”_

Returning to her domicile with a mind more at peace, Jen pulled her hair up into a messy ponytail and stood over Matt at the couch. His hair was askew, strands of it dipping down to his eyes, and the early shadow of stubble covered his jaw. The slow rise and fall of his chest was hypnotic and Jen got caught wondering what he was dreaming about.  
Warmth radiated on her knee. She looked down to find Matt’s hand had moved out for her and his thumb was brushing idly over her skin.

“Your skin’s cool. Where’d you go?” his voice rough with sleep.

“The roof,” she replied.

He lifted the blanket off his torso and shimmied closer to the back of the couch making room for her. “The roof? Why’d you go all the way up there?”

“The city’s pretty in the dark. And I didn’t want to wake you up.” Jen slid into the spot made for her and conformed her body against his, a contented relief trailed down her body when he wrapped the blanket around her, drawing her closer to him.

“Hmpf,” he hummed into the crown of her head.

“Dom’s coming over around eleven,” she whispered against his throat. “Gives us time to sleep some more.”

“Shopping?”

“And painting.”

“Painting?”

She chuckled and nuzzled against him. “That’s what we called it when we were kids. There’s a reason fight club lasted so long and I was so broke after going to buy makeup.”

“Ah. _Painting._ I get it.”

“And see? I told you I’d come back.”

“Good thing: I was about to come look for you.”

She opened her eyes, head pulled back, “You were not. You were exactly where I left you.”

“I mean, I was this close,” he gestured with his fingers, “to getting up.”

“Oh, so you’re going to lie to me this early in the morning. I see how it is. And to think that I even contemplated kissing you ‘ _Good Morning_ ’. Hmpf,” doing her best to sound indignant.

The corner of his mouth turned upward into a wry smile. “You could kiss me because I missed you instead.”

“Hmm,” she smirked. “I suppose.”

Matt lifted her chin gently and bent his head down to hers, his tongue sweeping across her top lip and tasting the last remnants of rum before claiming his prize. The feeling of her melt against him, her heart racing against his chest spurred him on to take his time; savoring the way she tasted and relishing at how soft her mouth was despite the split in it from her fight. Her legs intertwined with his and her hands rested against his chest, clinging to the fabric of his shirt.

“If I get one of these every time I go away, I might be tempted to be gone more often,” she teased, smiling against his lips.

“Or you could just not do that.”

“Or that,” she kissed his jaw before settling back to her original spot. An arm curved behind her back and pulled her close to him to keep her from rolling off the couch.

“Yeah. That. Too bad about the shirt, though,” he teased.

“I’ve been told that indecent exposure could get me arrested and is frowned on when going out in public.”

“How would I know? I wouldn’t be able to corroborate as a witness.”

She snorted, “That’s horrible.”

“I’m serious,” he laughed. “What…are – are the police going to come in, you in cuffs, and ask if you left the loft topless? To me? _‘Uh, officer…I hate to break it to you, but I’m blind and have no idea what you’re talking about’._ Yeah…that’d hold up well.”

“Hey,” she whispered. “Can you promise me something?”

“More than likely.”

“Can – can you never…uh…never call me Jenny? I know that’s…like…out of the blue considering the moment we’re having…but…”

Matt thought back to Malcom and how he spoke Jen’s name making his stomach sink. “Absolutely.”

“Or _sweetie_. It makes my skin crawl.”

“Of course; I promise,” he pressed another kiss into her hair and gave her a hug.

“Good,” she yawned.

Before he drifted off back to sleep, Matt felt her lips against his collarbone. She whispered words on his skin, but he was too tired and happy to pay attention and he willingly fell into the freefall of sleep.

 

“Hey, it’s time to get up,” her voice pulled him from sleep. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

“Seriously? You just went to sleep.”

“Ooh, grouchy. At least let me get up then. I’ll make some coffee and start breakfast,” she patted his arm.

Matt stretched against her and yawned. “You got yourself in here, you can get yourself out,” his tone teasing.

“Well, yes,” she looked over her shoulder. “But I’d rather not roll off the couch and have my ass hit the floor. Again.”

“Again?”

“Yeah, you dropped me twice last night, or did you forget?”

“Right,” he carefully maneuvered his limbs away from her. “You did deserve it both times.”

Jen stood and stretched. “So…coffee, breakfast…shower…and then I think reading before shopping is in order.”

“That’s rather boring,” Matt chimed in, shoving his hands behind his head with a wink.

Jen put her hands on her hips, arching a sly brow. “You were plenty un-bored last night, as I recall.” She moseyed into the kitchen and began making their coffee and cutting some fruit.

“Upon close review, more time is needed to conduct a thorough investigation of the events that occurred last night.”

“Oh?”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “A full investigation is needed. It’s routine.”

“Routine, huh?” her tone light.

“Wait…that sounded like a much better line in my head than actually being said…can I take that back?”

“No can do, sir. No take backs. I’ll remember that, though. Now, onto business,” she returned with mugs filled to the brim with coffee and placed them on the table. “What are we wearing tonight? Duquesne said it starts at seven and that I need to be there by six for the cocktail hour. I’ve got a list of people I need to schmooze,” she retorted with a large bowl of fruit in her hand.  
“Where am I supposed to sit if you’re taking up the whole couch?”

“There’s plenty of room,” he gestured with a wide sweep of his arms to the other sections of the couch. “What are you talking about?”

Shrugging, Jen plopped herself onto his abdomen and crossed her legs. Air whooshed from his lungs as his torso adjusted to the added weight of her atop him. “This’ll do.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re heavy?”

“Well,” she stuffed half of a strawberry in her mouth. “ ‘eah. A bit.”

“And?”

She swallowed and propped her head up on her hand, her elbow balancing on her knee. “It’s all the magnificent muscle I’ve built up over the years. I’m a bit of a beast.”  
“Now, what do you want? There’s strawberries, pineapple, banana, and mango in here.”

“Surprise me.”

“Suit yourself. Don’t choke,” she warned, dropping a piece of mango in his open mouth.  
“Is your closet pretty much the same since February?”

“Pretty much. A new suit for school and what not, but that’s about it.”

“By the sounds of it,” she scrolled through her messages, “Duquesne’s implying that it’s black-tie. I know you have a tux…You have a bowtie?”

“Uh, pretty sure I do. If not, I’ll grab one while you’re out.” Jen plopped a piece of banana in his mouth next. He chewed quickly and continued, “The million dollar question is what are you wearing?”

“Something, obviously,” she stuck out her tongue and proceeded to tell him what she did. “Pick a color.”

“Again? Didn’t I do this last time?”

“Yeah, but now you have an entire selection at your disposal. This isn’t an either-or thing: I legitimately have nothing to wear…you decide. But I wore purple last time; so maybe not that?”

Jen gave him two more pieces of fruit while he pondered. _I mean, if I could see…what color would I want to see her in? She got a lot of attention in that purple dress... Not red. Elektra wore red all the time.  I can’t do that to her. I mean, she wears it on occasion and from what Foggy says, she knocks it out of the park…she already wears a good deal of blue. She tells me so._

“Your face is doing the thing again,” her teeth raked across her bottom lip. “What are you thinking?”

“Black,” he mumbled with his mouth full.

“Well, it’ll definitely go with your tux. That’s for sure. Alright. You’re the boss…this time.”

“I’m marking that down on a calendar. Hold on, everyone…Jen MacDougall just said I was the boss,” a hand dove into the bowl and withdrew more fruit that he tossed into his mouth. “With gold this time. You had silver last time.”

“I’m impressed,” she chuffed. “Didn’t think you paid that much attention.”

“I pay attention all of the time. You just don’t realize it.”  
The bowl was left to balance on his chest as she reached for her coffee and sipped it gleefully from her perch. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yeah, thanks. It’s a nice space I’ve got. Makes the room really feel like it’s _living and breathing_.”

“Wow. I feel so special to partake in such grandeur.”

Once she had finished her drink, she stood up and handed him his coffee after he’d sat up. A sharp sting shot through her backside and she peered over her shoulder to find Matthew quite chuffed with himself.  
“Excuse you.”

“What? You can’t blame all of that on me. You’ve had your ass near my hands far too much in the past day. I felt that it was necessary.”

“Oh. Just you wait until I get even.”

“Even? You haven’t got even from last night yet; are you going to have an open tab for it? Probably should.”

“Just you wait,” she taunted, a tone of mischief dancing in his ears. “I’m getting a shower,” her eyes giving him a once over. “I’d play nice if I were you, Matt.”

“Nice? I’m the definition of a gentleman.”

“Yeah, sure you are. Just you wait, mister,” she whispered from behind the privacy curtain in the bedroom.

“I’m waiting.”

“You heard that?” she called out, reappearing with her towels and robe draped over her arms.

Matt set his nearly empty coffee cup back on the table. “I mean…you weren’t being that quiet.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I whispered to myself from fifteen feet away. That’s rather impressive.”

“Huh, guess my hearing is better than I thought,” he replied, leaning back. _That’s the truth._

“How well are you able to deal with threading?”

“Threading?”

“Well, I guess that’s what it’s called. My tuba teacher called it that…when you are able to pick out conversations, voices, or specific sounds in crowds…like pulling on a specific thread in a tapestry.”

“You had a tuba teacher?”

“Yes; I mean…I’m good at the tuba, but my mother wanted me to be the best, so I got lessons. Focus, Matthew,” she teased. “How well can you pick sounds out in a crowd?”

“Pretty well if I know what to focus on, I guess. Why?”

She tapped her lip idly, “Just…wondering.” In a flourish, she’d disappeared into the bathroom and started her shower.

_Just wondering? You’re never just wondering. Ever. You’re thinking. Strategizing. Plotting. Scheming. And considering, mischief will more than likely be involved. It’s times like this when you’re far too intelligent for your own good. …alright then, Jennifer. Let’s see what you’ve got. This could be fun._

 

Much to his dismay, Jen pulled a book from her luggage and began reading after dressing for the day. Matt emerged from the shower and noted she was engrossed in the pages of her book. There, faintly radiating from her hands, was the smell of warmed leather; no doubt from the book’s cover sitting in her hands. The pages smelled sweet with essences of almonds mixed with coffee and chocolate, indicating to him that the book was old.

“What are you reading?”

“Words on a page in a book.” She was rather pleased with her anti-joke reply, but Matt’s tight lipped expression urged her to add, “I’m reading _The Symposium_. It’s in my book of Plato’s dialogues.”

“Oh, just a little light reading before you go out.”

“I like Plato,” she argued, “and I enjoy the way he writes in his dialogues to convey his point. Reading the various translations can be a bit tedious to be sure that you understand the text fully…I mean, I don’t speak Greek…but…”  
“Oh, I just got to Aristophanes part of the dialogue.”

“Which one was he?” Matt sat down on the couch. “I read it once…a long time ago in school.”

“He’s technically the dramatist. So, Aristophanes just got done talking about how the original nature of humans was to be to be back to back with four arms, legs and a head with two faces. Ring a bell?”

“A little bit. Go on.”

“So, they tried climbing Olympus and Zeus considered obliterating them with his bolts of lightning, but realizes that he would no longer receive devotion from them, so he separates them; splitting them into two parts.”

“Ah, yes. That bit I do remember. It’s quoted rather frequently in books, movies and TV, right?”

“Oh, yeah. It get’s paraphrased and rewritten all the time. The whole star-crossed-other-half bullshit. But…I do enjoy this one snippet after Aristophanes discusses why humans seek each other out and Hephaestus asks if he should piece them back together…”

“Let me hear it, Socrates.”

“ _For this is the basis; this is our primeval nature, described as being whole. Eros is the name for desire and pursuit of the ‘whole’. Before that, as I say, we were one until our injustice brought dispersion from the gods, like the Arcadians by the Lachedaimians. There is a fear that if we do not honor the gods, we may be split in two again, surviving just as those who are outlined on stelae, sawn in half down the nose, becoming like half-dice.”_

“Is that what you believe? That people will spend an entire life searching for their other half?”

“Pfft,” she closed the book, steepling her fingers under her chin. “You would have to believe in fate to believe in Aristophanes theory. Look at how many people there are in the world: he’s telling me that I’m just going to happenstance find the other half of me and if I don’t find or lose them, I’ll suffer to have the next best thing?”  
“Nah,” she shook her head. “I think, though poetic and romantic in notion, it’s not probable. People could spend their entire lives searching and never find that perfect other half.”  
“And what of you, Mr. Murdock? What do you think about it since we’re now having conversation when I was intending on being silent until further notice,” her head tilted back and side to side.

“I dunno. I mess it up, a lot…and often it’s misguiding…and I don’t have the greatest track record with women…so there’s that…but I think it is what it is and we as people will do whatever we can to keep in once it enters our lives and it helps the mind and soul…and it’s everywhere. I just mess it up, miss it, or am oblivious to it.”

“Hmm. You’re more inclined to Eryximachus in that regard.”

“What about you?”

She scratched her head and ran her fingers through her hair a few times. “I think…hmm,” she snorted.  
“I don’t know what I think. When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

“That’s not fair,” he pointed a finger at her. “You’re supposed to have an opinion. You do on just about everything anyway.”

“Ouch…alright,” she nudged him playfully, opening the book again and returning to reading. “I would hope…at least…that love…I guess…feels like home. Wherever and whatever that is.”

A quick rapping of knuckles against the front door alerted them both that Dom had arrived with Melissa in tow. Jen let them in and offered them coffee before they headed out and filled up Matt’s cup for him.

“Shit, Mac. Look at you. I haven’t seen you get this banged up since middle school. What the hell were you doing? Napping?” Dom grimaced, fingers carefully peeling back the strap of her tank top to get a better look at her shoulder.

“I was. And then I got my shit together.”

“Well, I’m glad you beat his ass. He gave me the creeps…and that was before Dominic filled me in,” Melissa’s red lips pulled into a frown. “And your brother…”

“I’ll deal with Danny in my own time. Hopefully he’s stewing in his guilt right now. Anyway, that’s not why you’re here. I need to go shopping. Duquesne’s given me a two thousand dollar allowance, of sorts…for shopping purposes. He said that I need to make a statement.”

“A statement?” Matt inquired with a tilt of his head. “That’s new information.”

“No, I just didn’t divulge it. You were in the shower when that came through. There’s a president of a bank I need to impress.”

“Amazing that this is just coming into conversation now,” Dom crossed himself

“Oh, this is just great,” Jen pouted while Melissa did her best to stifle a giggle behind her hand. “When I envisioned the two of you meeting, this is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.”

“What?” they both asked in unison, laughing at themselves.

“That. Exactly that. You know what? Fine. I won’t say anything.”

“That’s hard to believe,” Matt retorted, taking his now empty mug into the kitchen sink.

Dom nodded and looked into Jen’s makeup bag to take stock of what she had. “Yeah, you have opinions about everything. You could talk a rock to sleep.”

“You,” she pointed a finger at Dominic, tight lipped. “I’ll get even with you when I come home and you know _exactly_ what to expect.”

Bonner inhaled quickly through clenched teeth and squinted. “Oh, that’s not cool.”

“And you,” she reeled on Murdock. “I’m going to enjoy getting even with you today.”

Dom moved to stand next to Matt and leaned his head down, “Man…it’s not going to be pleasant.”

“Why? What does she do?”

“Last time I picked on her this bad,” Dom whispered, eyes intent on Jen’s face, “I woke up with duct tape briefs…adhesive attached to me. She basically duct taped my balls and made it so that I couldn’t cut it off…”

“What are you two whispering about?” she crossed herself.

“Yeah, inquiring minds would like you to share with the class,” Melissa piped up.

Dom shrugged, hands stuffed into his pockets in an attempt to look innocent. “Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought you said,” Jen’s eyes glinting with mischief.

“Mac, I can see why you like him,” Melissa whispered into Jen’s ear. “And why your friendship with Dom’s lasted so long.”

“Yeah, Dom makes me want to beat him on a regular basis.”

“It’s one of my many gifts,” he teased, shoving Jen as he moved to hug his fiancée. “So, beastie, let’s talk game plan now that you’re done threatening my life. The bruising I can see, we’re looking at a good hour or so of painting. I’m thinking torso and up depending on the dress you get.”

“Agreed,” she frowned. “I can deal with my legs if I have to. It’ll probably take less time if I do my face while you’re working on my shoulder and back. We’ll have to pick up that liquid skin stuff for my knuckles. I haven’t had to do those in a while…  So…let’s see… Matt, you don’t have to get there at six unless you want to…but that’s when I need to get there. The actual gala starts at seven.”

“I was instructed by your boss to go with you, Jen.”

“Alright. So…leave by five thirty…Duquesne is sending a town car. Glamor makeup by four thirty…eesh…it’s going to be close…but I think we can do it. Shall we? I already called one of the shops to inform them I was coming in and to have dresses ready.”

“Ooh,” Dom teased. “Big shot’s gotta flex her muscles.”

Melissa rolled her eyes and elbowed Dom hard in the ribs. “She’s a boss. She’s doing what she needs to succeed. Don’t listen to him,” she hooked her arm around Jen’s. “Let’s get you ready to be _the_ boss. Grab your keys, lady. We’re going to _My Fair Lady_ your ass, pronto.”

Matt laughed and sensed Jen’s head whip around in his direction. He covered his mouth and coughed, “Sorry…something went down the wrong pipe…ahem.”

“You be back here by the time that car shows up, Matt,” Jen warned. “And don’t think you’re off the hook, either.”

As quickly as the guests had appeared, they had left dragging Jen with them as she guided them to their destination. Matt finished cleaning up the loft from breakfast and decidedly made his way back to the kitchen so that he could see his best friend and fill him in.

 

“Matt’s basically moved in at this point,” Dom informed Melissa in the cab.

“Shut it,” Jen groaned.

“Just an observation,” he grinned, motioning to Jen with his eyes.

Melissa shook her head with a smirk. “Careful, babe. I’m not going to defend you if Mac goes to retaliate. I might video it for her, though.”

“Betrayed!” he feigned being stabbed in the heart.

“You keep your observations to yourself,” she eyed her best friend knowingly. “Hopefully we find something at this shop. I’ll need to get shoes, too. Damn it.”

“We’ll get it done, Mac,” Melissa nodded. “Even if we have to divide and conquer, you’ll be ready for the ball, Cinderella.”

“You really like referencing movies to my situation,” Jen chuckled, paying the cabbie his fare. “Alright, team. Let’s go.”

 

“Yes, ma’am, we have the dresses in your size here. My name is Jo. I’ll be attending to you today.”

“Wonderful. If you’ll allow me, my boss is now sending me to a gala tonight that I know very little about and I’m supposed to make a couple business deal. I need a dress that makes a statement of strength, power, and independence.”

“Right, that’s a place to start. Any preference of silhouette or color?” Jo asked, hands expertly moving hangers on the rack.

“Black. And my boss’s input is important, so I don’t want to charge the dress to his account without his say so. I’m essentially going in his stead tonight. I brought assistants to take photographs and send them off to him.”  
“Also, don’t be put off by the bruising. I’m kind of into MMA fighting and now have a makeup team at my disposal.”

“Yes,” Melissa grinned. “This is what I live for.”  
Dom rolled his eyes, “I’m going to make this woman look flawless when I’m done with her.”

Jo nodded and started pulling dresses from the rack. “Absolutely. Here’s three…and…hmm…well, we got something in yesterday…we haven’t even tagged it yet…let me go and grab it; I think it’s in your size. Here,” she handed Jen the first dress. “Try this one and I’ll be back.”

“Want help?” Melissa offered.

“Yeah, I’ll need help with the back.”

The pair crammed into the dressing room and got Jen into the first dress quickly. It fit well, Jo had an eye for matching dress styles to body types. But as Jen turned round in the small room to look in the mirrors, Melissa shrugged and scrunched her face in indifference.  
Dutifully, she sent a picture of the dress to Jen’s boss and waited for a reply as they got her into the next dress. The second dress was a beautiful satin formed into a sheath silhouette with a deep, plunging neckline and a scoop-like cut in the back.

Melissa took another picture and sent it off to Duquesne and said, “It looks good on you; but I dunno. Like, I get the power vibe off this one…but…”

“Not the right power vibe? Yeah, me too. I don’t think he’ll bite on this one. I mean, it’s comfy as hell in comparison to the last one…but I’m thinking it’s not appropriate for this event.”

“What?” Dom asked from the showroom floor.

Jen stepped out and spun around on the small pedestal for him to see. “Melissa and I both agree that while the dress is great, it’s not for tonight.”

Dom’s mouth hung agape. “Mac. Put on a sweater or something. Jesus. I can see all the way down to your belly button!”

“Nuh-uh,” she argued, starting down. “It stops just below my ribcage. And for the record, before you, your fiancée, and whatever god there might be listening, you’ve seen me in a bathing suit before…so…stop being weird.”

Melissa snorted noisily from the dressing room and beckoned Jen back in to try the next dress when Duquesne replied. Melissa read the message aloud as Jen changed:

 

_To: Jennifer MacDougall_

_The first one is a no._  
_The second is flattering, but you’re_  
_trying to clinch a deal tonight, not_  
_seduce them. Oh, and the Bank_  
_President? Mr. Katzinger is gay._  
_You’re on the right track._

“That’s a bonus,” Jen sighed shimmying into the next dress that Jo draped over the door.

While Melissa was securing the clasps and zipper of the strapless dress, she said, “You and your boss seem to get along pretty well. And you seem to think similarly.”

“He’s a good guy,” Jen huffed, fixing the thin chiffon over the body of the dress. “He’s got a good moral code and set of ethics that he follows for his company. Hey…hey, Dom?”

“Huh?”

“You remember Mr. Day?”

“Jesus. I haven’t thought about that guy in ages.”

“So,” Jen divulged to his fiancée, “Dom _hated_ Mr. Day in middle school. He complained about him all the time. But Mr. Day had this way of pushing you forward without being super overbearing. He’d tell you what the finish line was, you know? And then he’d only help you get there when you absolutely needed it because he wanted us to know and believe that we had the ability and potential to do it on our own.”

“And the asshole still gave me a C,” Dom chimed in.

“You earned a C,” Jen corrected. “Anyway, Mike Duquesne is a lot like that. He’s given me a preview of the finish line after I complete everything in Chicago. He’s being super helpful right now because he forgot about it…but he wants me to figure things out on my own and he’ll assist me when I absolutely need it. That’s the kind of person I want to work for.”

“Good for you, Mac. Honestly. I know we didn’t necessarily start off on the right foot…I was being a bit of a bitch. But…umm…I’m glad that you’re in our lives…and I’m glad this is working out for you. You deserve it.”

“Thanks,” she beamed. She spun around and exited the room to stand on the pedestal. “Well? What do we think?”

“It’s great, get that one,” Dom groaned.

Melissa and Jo both shook their heads. Jen eyed herself in the mirror, “I feel too much like Audrey Hepburn in this…like Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Nope. Don’t even send him a picture. He’s going to veto it. Jo, you said something about another dress?”

She nodded and produced the gown in its bag for Jen to see. “It’s black in the body, but there are lines of gold embellishments on it; I wasn’t sure if it would work or not.”

Jen’s eyes traveled across the fabric and she took it into the dressing room, Melissa close behind. “I have a feeling…”

The gown was fitted and hugged against Jen’s body exactly where it needed to. Sleeveless, it accented the shape of her shoulders and arms, cutting around her shoulder blades in the back. The neckline was high and gave a faux appearance of a collar and the hem fell to the floor with a slightly flared train. Lines of gold trailed from the bodice down, cinching slightly at the waist and flaring apart to the hem.

Melissa’s eyes lit up in approval and she fired off a picture to Jen’s boss before shoving Jen out into the shop. “This one!”

Annoyed, Dom lethargically turned his head in their direction. “You know, you two are going to burn through every dress in this place at the…”

When he saw her, he stopped and his eyes went wide. “Well?” Jen asked, hopeful. “What do you think?”

Jo clasped her hands together and ran for her manager to come and bask in the glory of Jen in this dress. Melissa bounced on her toes and hands clasped in front of her mouth.

“You look…amazing,” he breathed. “Mac…just look. Turn around and look.”

She turned and nearly didn’t recognize herself. She tilted her head and squinted a little in scrutiny.  
_How is this person me? When did I become able to pull fof a dress like this? Holy shit. Stand tall, dumbass…look at you! You look like a God damned queen. What if Duquesne says no? No. Not an option. I’m buying this regardless._

 

_To: Jennifer MacDougall_

_Well done._  
_That is how you make a statement._  
_Do your work the first hour and then_  
_enjoy yourself for the rest of the_  
_evening. Charge whatever you need_  
_to the account._  
_If you close the deal, you get to keep_  
_the dress._

“Jo,” Jen smirked. “I’ll take it. I’m going to need shoes and jewelry. If you have something in the store, you get the commission. If not, I’m going to need recommendations quickly. I am running on a bit of a schedule.”

“Right this way, Miss Jen,” Jo motioned toward the other end of the store.

“Can you do something for me?”

“Yes, of course.”

“The woman with me: her name’s Melissa. I want you to get her a dress for dinner.”

“The same dinner?”

“No,” a wry smile widened on her face. “For a date. I will pay for it personally.”

Jo’s eyes traveled between Dominic and Melissa and she nodded knowingly. “Understood. Miss Melissa? If you’d accompany me this way for a few moments?”

 

“My tux, Foggy. It’s not in my closet.”

“Buddy, I don’t fit into your clothes and didn’t take it. Why do you need your tux all of the sudden?”

His fingers brushed over the tags in his closet again and to his dismay, his tux wasn’t anywhere to be found. “Jen’s boss is sending her to a dinner tonight. The only way that she’s allowed to go is if I go with her.”

“That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense,” Foggy joined in searching through the closest in the event the labels were on the wrong hanger.

“He saw her when she video called him. She told him about her father and what happened.”

“Ah, damn. Alright. Let’s think this through, logically. Did you get it dry cleaned and forget to pick it up?”

“No. Wait…damn. Yes. Great. That’s – that’s just great.”

Foggy looked at his watch, “And if it’s the place you usually use…”

“They close early on Saturdays. Damn it!”

“Have no fear,” Foggy fished his phone out of his pocket. “I know a guy. Hang on.”  
He pressed his phone to his ear and waited for the other end to pick up. “Sammy! Hey, man! …Yeah? That’s awesome. Good for you! …Uh-huh…no! That’s awful! …well yeah, I was wondering if I could call in a favor. Yeah. Oh…no, not for me…for my buddy, Matt…for tonight…he’s got somewhere to be in like…two and a half hours…you will? Awesome! What do I owe ya? …uh-huh…you got it. I’ll call my dad and have him send it over. You’re the best!”

He hung up and gave Matt a knowing smirk. “And that, young Padawan, is how you get a tux in an emergency. Come on. With traffic at this time of day, it’s going to be a bear…but we’ve got to hustle and get up to Harlem.”

“Harlem?”

“That’s where his uncle’s shop is. Come on, Matt, let’s go. If you’re late for this, Mac might to kill you.”

 

Back at the loft, Dom was applying concealer over the bruises on Jen’s back while she did the same to her face. Melissa had kindly gone out and bought the extra makeup and supplies that they needed, including some amazing stuff that is used by the makeup industry to cover up tattoos.

“The bonus to this,” Dom’s eyes intent on the bruise at her shoulder, “is that I don’t have to do much on the middle of your back since your dress covers it. And, between everything else, we should be able to make it look like normal.”

“Yeah, small favors.” Her phone buzzed and she looked over the screen.

 

_To: Mac-Attack_

_Long story short, we’re in Harlem_  
_getting Matt a new tux._  
_He’s surly. Sorry._

 

Her nose wrinkled and she ran her thumb over her lip. _Seriously? Well, he doesn’t technically need to be there until seven…I can make deals without him being there. I’ve done it before at conference…_

“What happened,” Dom asked without looking up. “You’re doing that thing where you’re thinking so loud it’s hurting my brain.”

“Foggy texted. The ran out to get Matt a new tux. Could be flying solo for the first hour.”

Dom shrugged and dusted setting powder onto her shoulder. “And?”

“If he’s late, he’ll have to meet me there. That’s all.”

“Good,” he retorted. “Now, let me get to work on your knuckles.”

 

_To: Foggy_

_Just have him meet me there._  
_It’s fine. He doesn’t have to_  
_be there until seven anyway._  
_That gives me time to work_

_To: Mac-Attack_

_You know as well as I do he’s_  
_pissy._  
_He’s worried that someone will_  
_tell your boss that he didn’t show._

_To: Foggy_

_As long as Matt gets there, we’ll be_  
_fine. Duquesne’s not an asshole._  
_Tell him to chill out. When he gets_  
_there, he’ll need to tell the doorman_  
_my name to get in. If it’s an issue,_  
_tell him to call me._

“Have you thought about what actual makeup you’re wearing?” Dom asked, applying the liquid bandage to her broken skin.

“Simpler, I think,” she retorted. “Eyes?”

“Definitely. You have some strong eyeliner game when you try. I would do that.”

Jen smirked, blending the last bit of concealer on her face. “Now that’s something I miss.”

“What, does Foggy not tell you when your makeup’s on point?” Dom chuckled. “I’ll have to have a word with him if they’re a part of the family now.”

“Let me know how that goes for you, you dork.”

Dom grew quiet and intent on his work. Thin lips and knitted brows were enough of an indicator that something was on his mind. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Jen asked.

“Just thinking,” he paused. “We shouldn’t have many more of these moments left…considering we’re growing up and all. You’ll be going to Chicago in the fall…”

“If you think,” she set her brushes down, “for one second that me leaving home changes anything, Dominic Ryan Bonner, then I am going to beat your ass right here and now where we stand. I wouldn’t be here or – or who I am if it weren’t for you. I hate to break it to you, man; but you’re stuck with me until we’re old and gray and ready to kick the bucket.”

“But you’re going to be a big shot in Chicago, you’ll be able to get anything…everything that you’ve ever wanted.”

Jen frowned and wrapped her hand around his nape, holding him fast, “That’s true. But I need my family. It’s the only thing I’ve got that tethers me to the ground. Now, if you’re done speculating about what might never happen, I want you to shut up and get back to work.”

He nodded and began covering her wounds again. “You serious about making them a part of the family?”

“I think so,” her hand beginning to apply various shades of gold to her lids. “Why?”

“I know that I just met them, and – and I can see what it is that you like about them and why you guys get along. They’re both smart like you are. But – but I got a chance to watch you and Matt interact and talk…and I think he’s good for you. He pushes you.”

“So do you,” Jen added thoughtfully.

“Yeah, but you need him to push you now. He can do that, you know? It’s a different point in your life: I pushed you when we were kids…now you have someone to give you the extra pushes you need in adulthood. And, you know, regardless of me picking on you to just start dating…if – if you don’t, at least keep him in your life, Mac. You’re a better person.”

“Thanks,” her cheeks felt hot and her eyes fell to rest on the countertop.

“There,” a sense of finality in his voice. “My masterpiece is done. I don’t see a shadow of a bruise anywhere. What do you think?”

Jen looked herself over in the mirror and nodded. “I’d say you haven’t lost your touch, da Vinci. Nicely done. Now…I have a surprise for you.”

“Me? Jesus. You’re not still going to duct tape me, are you?”

“Though tempting, I have to pass for now. Out on the privacy screen, there’s a garment bag: go get it.”

Skeptical, Dom followed her instructions and returned with the bag in hand. Jen placed it on a hook and opened it up, revealing navy, tailored, suit jacket, a pair of khaki Dockers, brown shoes, and white button up shirt.  
“Get dressed, buttercup.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m going out?! I thought Matt was meeting you there! I can’t go out in this with you looking like that!”

“Just do it,” her voice flat. “Now, Dominic.”

Muttering obscenities under his breath, Dom turned on his heel and left Jen alone in the bathroom while he went to change. “If you think,” he hollered, “that I’m wearing a tie, you’ve got another thing coming!”

A lack of reply pushed him to keep grumbling loud enough for her to hear, but Jen continued working on the last of her makeup and hair. A gentle knock at the front door made Jen ask, “Hey, get the door, will you?”

_And here we go: he’s bitching the whole way to the door. Good. And…the…door…opens…he’s speechless…brain’s going a million miles an hour…and then…got him._

“MAC! YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!”

“What,” she asked, popping her head out from behind the door. “I thought a date night for you two would be nice! And I already called and asked her aunt and uncle if they were cool with it. And Melissa, you look stunning.”

“Thank you,” she twirled her skirt. It was a beautiful, summery, green cocktail dress that flared out at the waist, the skirt stopping at the knee.

“We can’t afford this,” Dom ran a hand through his hair.

“You aren’t paying for any of it,” Jen tutted. “Now, your reservations are for six. I’ve texted you the address, Dominic. I want you to take your fiancée out to dinner. AND, before you even say a word; the dinner is already taken care of. So you can stop looking at me with that face.”  
“All I ask is that before you two scamper off, one of you help me into my dress. After that, the evening is yours. I want you two to have fun while I’m out working.”

“You can’t afford this, either,” he groaned while Melissa ducked into the bathroom with Jen.

“You have no idea what I can and can’t afford,” she challenged from behind the door.

“Mac, thank you,” Melissa hugged her gently, minding the makeup. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Consider it an engagement present. Now, he’s going to want to whine and complain. Don’t you stand for it. Once you leave, I’ll send you the address for the place you need to go after dinner.” She pulled her hair up so that Melissa could finish zipping up the back.

“And what about you? What’s planned for date night for you two? That dress is amazing on you and he’d love it.”

“Who?”

“You and Matt, dummy.”

“Oh. Well…we aren’t …and I’m working tonight.”

“Right,” she nodded, adding a sarcastic wink for good measure. “Even a blind man could see you two care for each other…and on hindsight that was said in poor taste…”

Jen laughed heartily and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “He’d appreciate that one. That was good.”

“I’m serious, though…I can tell. He’s always looking for you when you aren’t beside him…listening for where you were in the room even as we were talking. And when you laughed Thursday morning…you should have seen his face…Mac…I’m so serious…it was…like…I dunno…I think he looked the way we hope any man looks when we laugh.”

 “Thank you, Melissa,” she whispered. “It’s…hard for me,” her confidant nodded in understanding. “But…for now, I need Matt. He makes me feel less alone…less afraid of the light.”

“The light?”

“I’ve always been in the dark,” she admitted, fixing her hair. “Despite the nightmares and terrors I have and continue to deal with… The dark makes more sense to me. Matt makes being in the light more tolerable; safer…and that’s good for me. He has tenacity in the belief of a better day.”

“Then maybe you balance each other out and that’s a good thing, too.”

“Maybe.”  
“Now, you two go. Shoo. Have a wonderful night out. I don’t know how long I’ll be out tonight, but I’d like to see you guys tomorrow before you head back. I want to see my little munchkin. I just absolutely adore your daughter.”

“I know you do. How about an early dinner sometime around four? That would give you a chance to sleep in and us a chance to pack and have brunch with my family before we leave.”

“Sounds good. You two decide on what you want for dinner and I’ll cook. I’m a fabulous cook; scout’s honor!”  
“Go, go; go. You two have fun. I love you both.”

The Bonners left quietly to go to dinner and Jen worked on the final touches of her battle armor: a golden arm cuff formed into thin chevrons gripped her right bicep and golden bangles adorned her left wrist. Waves of her dark hair cascaded down her shoulders and she looked herself over. Her face was done up tastefully, a conservative shade on her lips similar to her natural color and a light bronzer and highlight rested on her cheekbones. She thought her eyes, however, were dominating and entrancing: a gradient of golds and bronzes swept across her lids and a fierce, black line swept upward from the root of her lashes.

“Soldier, keep on marching,” she commanded herself through the mirror. “Now go to work.” _Huh…Matt said that to me once._

 _There. In the middle of my stomach. A warming numbness that flows into my blood and fills my chest and limbs. A heavy weightlessness that confuses me, so paradoxical in nature. As if I were bound in chains but free to fly into the sun like Icarus…a roar of blood pounding in my ears and my heart thrashing wildly against its cage… This must be the stuff of poems and sonnets. Beautiful and alarming, both tangible and intangible simultaneously. This feeling and what it could mean…what it might do for my soul._  
_So much of me, what really makes me who I am, is shattered and held together with wishes, prayers, and stubbornness. And that warmth…what if it’s liquid gold pouring into those cracks? What if it fills the broken lines and makes something new? The Japanese use Kintsugi, where they fix broken pottery with lacquers mixed with gold, silver, or platinum…filling the cracks and piecing it back together. The pottery is then strengthened and fundamentally still the same; but, reinforced and made beautiful again._  
_I always thought that I would remain that way: cracked, jagged…broken beyond use. Matt’s said that he never wants me to feel discarded or – or wasted…and since then I’ve felt the change…accepted it, even. Is that what Dominic sees? That Matt’s helped piece me back together and that…I’m…changed? Beautiful? Stronger?_  
_What if the stone that I am made of, cracked and broken from damage and abuse…what if every scar, every wound…is now being filled with silver or gold? There’s something resplendent in that idea…that I could be made whole and radiant despite my damage._  
_Maybe that’s it; this feeling that Matthew has given me: Radiance, resplendence, and acceptance._


	14. The Jealous are Possessed by a Mad Devil

The gala was held at the Tribeca Rooftop, a modern looking space with an industrial vibe to it. The ceilings slanted with glass panes and dark steel beams crossed overhead. A beautiful reception and seating area was accessible by stairway out to a balcony that overlooked the city’s skyline. Standing against the railing, gazing at the edifices that make up Manhattan, her phone buzzed in her clutch.  
_Very posh. A little out of my comfort zone…nah. No I’m not. This…it’s time I start making waves._

_To: Jennifer MacDougall_

_Remember:_  
_Richard Katzinger, Bank President_  
_(Gay, so don’t seduce the man.)_  
_Decent man. We want him to realize that_  
_Duquesne Enterprises still holds_  
_its own, even in New York. Make sure_  
_to drop a line about us opening a new_  
_venue in London this fall._  
  
_Zach DuPont, Investor_  
_Bit of a dirt bag, to be honest._  
_Thinks he’s God’s gift to women._  
_Bit of an ego. And in an effort not to_  
_sound like a chauvinist, you’re certainly_  
_his type this evening. He’ll seek you out._  
_You’ll need to impress him with your_  
_business sense more than anything._  
_And put a bug in his ear that we have_  
_an eye on New York._  
  
_Paul Gibson_  
_As much as I don’t want you anywhere_  
_near this man, I would like to get_  
_an idea of what he hears of New York._  
_He knows what trends will hit the city_  
_before the rest of us do. It’s a gift._  
_But he’s dirty and conniving._  
_If you don’t want to talk to him,_  
_I completely understand._

_To: Mr. Duquesne_

_Got it. I’ll do my best and hopefully_  
_help solidify plans for the company._  
_I’ll call tonight to let you know how_  
_things go._

_To: Jennifer MacDougall_

_No. Call me tomorrow. I’m old._  
_You and I both know that I’m_  
_going to be long gone asleep by the_  
_time you two get out of there if I_  
_consider the stories I heard about you_  
_shutting down the cabaret club in_  
_February._  
_Knock ‘em dead, kid._

She sipped her glass of champagne and surveyed the room. DuPont was at the bar and Gibson was sitting in the corner with a large group. To her delight, Katzinger was heading her way and appeared to have been looking for her. Richard Katzinger was a stocky man with dark eyes and salt and pepper hair, square hands, and had a slight limp in his left leg. It was almost imperceptible, but his left shoulder dipped a fraction of an inch with every step he took.

_Possible arthritis in the knee or his hip is out of alignment. Wedding band. Musky cologne. Neat face, probably uses top of the line skin care routine. Gesturing with his right hand and leads as such, right handed. Slight callous on the last joint of his middle finger…uses a great deal of pressure when he writes…_

“Mr. Katzinger, I presume?”

“That’s what I’ve been told. And there’s only a small selection of people that know who I am before I introduce myself. Those that want money and those that have been told about me. You must be Duquesne’s new protégé. He said that he’d hit a homerun with you, but I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you that is a vast understatement. Miss…?” he offered his hand for a strong handshake.

“Jennifer MacDougall. Does Mr. Duquesne make it a habit of throwing his employees your way, then?” she sipped casually from her glass.

He laughed, “If he has one, it’s usually at the February conference; which, I do recall you attending the dinner. I lament that I wasn’t able to discover your aptitude before Michael did. Your speech was rather moving.”

“Fanciful and hopeful, but nonetheless, I hold steadfast to my ideals and how they could do the business world some good. Those ideals are part of the reason I’ve chosen to take a contract with Duquesne Enterprises,” she divulged, leaning in quietly. “Plus, Duquesne’s got a few projects in the works, so that’s good for business on my end.”

“Really? Anything you want to share with the class?”

“I shouldn’t,” she laughed, fingers hiding her lips. “But…well, he’s looking to open up a few more venues.”

Katzinger nodded and leaned in. “Of course he does. That’s business.”

“Well,” she bobbed her head side to side. “I don’t want to presume how close you and Mr. Duquesne are without him being here…”

“We’re old friends, Miss MacDougall. We grew up together in Chicago,” he whispered. “But, shh to that…I don’t want there to be any complaints of favoritism.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Jen agreed. “Mr. Duquesne speaks well of you in our conversations, and said that if I had the chance, I should introduce myself to you.”  
“I digress, I apologize. We were talking shop before niceties. Venues?”

“Ah, yes,” he offered her his arm, walking under the opalescent sky. “Are you going to spill some of his secrets?”

“Secrets? Oh, no, sir. But he does want you to know that he has his eye on New York.”

“And; hypothetically speaking, of course, why would that interest me at this present moment?”

“My employer understands that, as the president of your bank, you are in the game of making sound financial investments. Duquesne Enterprises has five venues in the Greater Chicago Metropolitan area, one in Miami, one in Seattle, two in Los Angeles, one in San Francisco, and…what you might not have heard, is that we are opening a restaurant in London this fall.”

“Where abouts? The love of my life and I vacation there frequently to visit his family.”

“Marylebone.”

“You don’t say? Isn’t that a little rich for Duquesne’s blood?” he leaned into her ear.

Jen shrugged and gave her empty glass to one of the waiters. “I’m not one to speculate on those matters. Yet. But, what I can tell you is that he’s set his sights on New York and sent me here to begin scouting locations. If you had a say, Mr. Katzinger, where would you want to find a Duquesne dining experience in this city?”

Katzinger stopped and patted her hand in his elbow. “He was right to send you, you have a knack for this sort of business, Jennifer. I’m impressed. It’s been a long time since Michael has sent someone my way and been able to handle themselves at _the game_ so marvelously.”  
“You tell Michael that, should he seriously want to find territory here in this city, he’ll only need to give me a call. I would even make a demand that you be his eyes and ears in New York. There are sharks and beasts here in this jungle and you seem to be able to handle yourself well.”

“Thank you, Mr. Katzinger.”

“You’re welcome. I suspect that if Michael had you here to do business, he would be using me as a warm up for far more deviant opponents.”

“You could say that.”

He turned and looked around the space and waved to a man speaking idly with the mayor. “That man, over there is Tom, my partner. Michael mentioned that you were bringing someone with you?”

She nodded and did a quick sweep of the balcony and looked down the stairwell into the dining space. “Yes, but he was delayed. I’ve been assured he will get here by the time the gala begins. He’s not one for business, so best I get to work early and then leave the rest of the night to additional sport.”

“Well said,” Katzinger smirked. “If Michael has you speaking to one of the men I’m thinking of, you’re going to want a partner for it. Someone who will have your back to look for the proverbial knife to be placed in it.  
“I’ve left my husband alone with the mayor for too long, I apologize. It was wonderful to meet you, Jennifer; I certainly hope that this isn’t the last time that we have the fortune to speak.”  
With a gracious bow at his waist, Katzinger took his leave.

Jen moved to the stairwell’s balcony and gazed down at the people below. Ambient jazz music played by the live band settled nicely in the background as pink and blue lights flooded the room. Ripples of pride and delight rushed down her spine when her eyes sought out a specific form in the crowd. He was along the edge of the room sitting at the other bar, presumably ordering his first drink.  
_Matt Murdock._

She pressed her phone to her ear and listened patiently as the other end rang, watching him fish his phone from his breast pocket.

“ _Hello_?”

“You know damn well who it is, Matt. Your phone announces my name as it’s ringing. Don’t sound so surprised.”

_“Are you mad that I’m late? I told Foggy to tell you that I was sorry…”_

She shrugged and moved further down the balcony away from him. “He told me. And no, I’m not upset. I already have a third of my business done for the night.”

_“Oh. Then…wait…where are you?”_

“Somewhere.”

_“You can see me.”_

“I can see you, yes.”

_“You know, I should warn you that if we’re playing Hide and Seek, I’m really bad at this game.”_

“Has anyone ever told you how good you look in a tux, Matthew? They say that the suit makes the man but I disagree. The man makes the suit. A suit can be armor, a costume, or a display…and you, Mr. Murdock, are wearing yours in a combination of all three. Do you know how many women keep staring at you?” He groaned.  
“By my count, you have two that keep looking back to you repeatedly. I think the one to your right is going to talk to you first.” Jen smiled and watched as his cool demeanor became agitated and he wiped his palm against his leg. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

_“Uh…no…it’s just…”_ Using his developed senses, Matt was able to find her standing near the stairs overlooking the room, but made no attempt to look in her direction. Her heart boomed in his ears like thunder and he knew that he would be able to follow that sound anywhere in the crowd.

“Tsk, tsk. A simple compliment and now you lost your words? I should have been complimenting you sooner. For example, that specific cut and tailoring makes your shoulders look more broad. Bit of a turn on for the ladies.”

_“Jen, what are you doing?”  
Oh my God. Her voice…that tone she’s using…that’s dangerous._

“Pay back, Matt. The game of glorious payback.”

He inhaled a deep breath and blew out slowly, adjusting his bow tie. _“Ah. That.”_

“And there are rules to the game, in case you were wondering.”

His head leaned back, leg bouncing on the foot rest. “ _Of course there are. Alright, Miss MacDougall, I’m listening_.”

She leaned on the railing, a devious smirk on her face. “I will, from time to time, let it be known exactly what I’m thinking about on matters that concern you. It might be through the phone. I might be beside you. I might expect you to find my voice in the crowd and listen. Until dinner, you will not get a chance to see me; because, I mean, this is more fun. Look at you…you’re breathing a little quicker…are you getting bothered over there? That’s the name of the game.”

_“Should we test if I can try and lie over the phone again?”_

“I wouldn’t. That might cost you some things later. I would consider that not only are you paying for picking on me earlier; but I’ve decided to collect for last night as well. And I reserve the right to change the rules at will. Don’t worry, Matt; I’ll find you before dinner.”

_*click*_

Matt ran a hand through his hair and sighed, taking a rather generous drink from his glass. Jen chuckled to herself and relished in the adrenaline rush she was getting. _What’s the worst that could happen?_

 

The smooth glass felt increasingly fragile in his hand and as much as Matt didn’t want to admit it, the scotch wasn’t doing anything to slake his thirst. Jen had enthroned herself on an oversized chair on the stair balcony and was focused on someone below across the floor, not him. He could tell when her eyes would seek him out at the bar:  the sound of her; the energy of her changed.

She had various men come to speak with her throughout the hour, most leaving her their number and whispering explicit things to her as they departed. _As if any of them even have a chance._  
His hands ached to go out and find Jen and be able to touch her again, which alarmed him some. That feeling had gone a long time ago when Elektra left and he couldn’t tell if its return was a blessing or a curse.  
Sitting stoically, no one would know that his mind was racing and remembering in vivid detail exactly the way she felt in his hands last night. Or how much he desired to feel her that way again.  
_And then some._

Whomever Jen had been intent on had finally noticed her and she was doing her best to play coy. Matt took his drink and began edging around the room to avoid the plethora of guests, standing silently under the balcony where Jen was lying in wait.

“Can I help you?” he heard her say. Her tone was smooth like silk, but it wasn’t one he’d heard her use before and didn’t buy it as genuine.

“I couldn’t help notice that you’re over here without a drink in your hand or a man at your arm,” the man replied.

_He’s a little taller than I am, and broader in the chest. Expensive cologne and suit; bit of a womanizer though, by the number of perfumes still lingering to it. Light on his feet, gel in his hair…eavesdropping hasn’t ever hurt before…_

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he continued. “I’m Zach DuPont.”

“Pleasure,” Jen scoffed, taking the drink he offered her.

“And you are?”

“DuPont…as in the same man that likes to throw his money around?” He grew quiet and squinted at her. “Thought so.”

“See, I know everyone that comes to these little parties. Everyone. Some more _intimately_ than others, but…you: I’ve never seen you here before and it’s rather exclusive to get an invitation here. The question that remains to be answered isn’t who you are, but rather what you’re here for,” he sat down across from her, licking his lips.

“I’m a scout,” she offered, sipping the champagne without breaking eye contact. “I’m here to look for business prospects.”

“At the gala,” DuPont replied flatly. “Shouldn’t you be enjoying yourself instead?”

She leaned forward and set her empty glass down before re-crossing her legs. “Am I not?”

“Hmm,” he hummed, clinking his ring off his glass.

“You think that your fair looks, dash of charisma and hefty words can sway me to divulge who I am and what I want? I suppose that you believe your blond-haired, blue-eyed innocent routine works on everyone. Oh, no, my good man. That’s not how I conduct business.”  
“See, at present, I hold the power in the conversation,” she gave a one-sided shrug and reclined back into her chair. “I know who you are and what it is that you do, and I know that it’s eating you alive to know what it is that I want; more specifically why I want what I want. So far, you haven’t given me any reason to discuss such details with you.”

“And what would incline a lady such as yourself to divulge such _details_ to me?”

She scoffed standing up, moving to lean on the railing with her hip, looking at the people below, “When I decide, should I…decide, I’ll let you know.”  
_Now where did you go?_

DuPont joined her at her side. “If I may, that dress is very beautiful.”

Jen stood straighter, arms set apart as she looked over her faux dominion. “Beautiful? That’s rather overused, don’t you agree? I didn’t choose this dress because it’s beautiful.”

“You’re right,” he apologized. “While the dress is dazzling and bewitching to look at, I must admit that the mind behind it is all too alluring and enticing; I’m glad that I walked over here. Would you dance with me?”

Jen turned to stare up at him, “Now? You offer simple compliments and I’ve nearly insulted you at every turn and now, you want to dance? Rather masochistic, isn’t it?”

“Why not? It may even give me a chance to learn your name,” he offered her his hand. “And if I don’t, I’ll at least know that I was able to dance with the most exquisite woman of the evening.”

“If I must,” she placed her hand in his, allowing him to lead them down to the dance floor where couples were already enjoying themselves.

Matt felt her discomfort when DuPont’s hand sat between her shoulder blades, but further felt a pang of jealousy when his hand moved to rest on her backside.  
_He must think he’s getting lucky tonight. Joke’s on him. This has to be one of the guys that Duquesne asked her to schmooze. What a prick._

When they rounded the landing, Jen found her partner hiding under the balcony and could only surmise what he’d been able to overhear.

“Can you hear me, Matt?” she asked into the crowd before DuPont could notice.  
Hands resting peaceably atop his cane’s handle, he gave a subtle nod. “Wonderful. Rescue me if I need it, would you?”

“What?” DuPont said, leaning down to hear her.

“This band,” she lied. “I wonder if they know the Rescue Me chart. It’s quite good.”

“Ah,” he nodded, spinning Jen into him. “Now, I do believe I was trying to get answers from you.”

“You were trying. As are six or seven other investors here this evening. Yes. I believe that would be the operative word in that sentence.”

“Let me change the questions then. What is a woman, such as yourself; in a dress such as this and wielding power over men in the manner that you do, doing attending a gala such as this? I think you being a scout is rather dismissive of what you actually do.”

DuPont clasped her left hand to his right and began to dance in small circles with her on the floor. As they would slowly move, Jen would seek out Matt’s face and guide them slightly closer to him.  
_It’s not that I’m trying to be mean. But this guy’s an ass and if Matt’s going to rescue me, I’d like to make it as believable as possible._

“I work for Duquesne Enterprises based out of Chicago.”

“And what is a Chicago business woman doing in New York?”

“Business,” she replied coolly. “Am I not capable of doing my job because I’m not in my own territory? Tsk, tsk.” His hand slid from her back to her waist, which she found annoying.

“Well, no,” he chuckled. “But wearing that dress to this kind of event…” his eyes traveling downward, “It definitely says that you want to get noticed because you’re bored. And I found you.”

“Oh,” she laughed. “I’m far from bored. I’ve gone out looking for property to be developed over the past week and found a few places that Mr. Duquesne may be interested in acquiring. My job doesn’t bore me, Mr. DuPont. It stimulates me.”  
She watched as Matt’s thumb brushed over his bottom lip and Jen had the sudden urge to grab him and kiss him. _Down girl. You’re working. Christ.  
_“To that end, if I wanted to be noticed what makes you whole heartedly believe that it’s _you_ that I was looking for?”

“Intuition,” he dipped her expertly.

“Then your intuition has failed you in this instance, Mr. DuPont.” The song ended and the dancers clapped appreciatively. “While I appreciate the song and dance, when you’re ready to conduct business instead of this game, you can give my company a call.”

She withdrew a card from her clutch and handed it to him and he read it aloud, “ _Jennifer MacDougall; Duquesne Enterprises_. Interesting…your card doesn’t say what your title is.”

“It doesn’t have to. Mr. Duquesne is capable of telling you, personally, what I do with the company. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to with people that actually want to conduct business…not whatever this was,” she waved a dismissive hand.

“Now wait a second,” he clamped a hand around her wrist and yanked her to him. “We can conduct business, but there’s no fun in just that.”

Jen could see Matt take a step forward from the wall over DuPont’s shoulder. She snapped her fingers as loudly as she could and he stopped, his chest visibly rising and falling under his shirt.  
 “You’d do well to let go of me,” her body stiffened. “If I don’t put you in your place, then certainly both my date and Mr. Duquesne would be happy to do so.”

“Your date? There’s no one here with you.”

“On the contrary,” she snatched her arm away from him. “He’s here and knows that I can handle myself, but would be more than happy to help me should I need it. Now, you on the other hand, have given me glorious insight to your persona. You’re going to have to convince me by the end of the night why I should tell my employer that you are the choice we need to have on our team once we conduct our New York affairs. Otherwise, I’m sure Mr. Duquesne will take my suggestion of using your competitor instead…what was his name…ah yes: Chris Green.”

“Green is an idiot,” he seethed. “Alright. I’ll bite. You play a dangerous game, Jennifer. You can have five minutes of my time before the end of the night.”

“Twenty,” she took a step forward, her face inches from his. “And we can call your little…indiscretion…a momentary lapse of judgement and nothing more.”

“Ten.”

“Twenty. If you try to change the time again, I will walk away and be on the phone so fast with Duquesne that it’ll make your head spin,” she whispered, eyes burning into him. “Do…not…tempt…me. If I had it my way, we wouldn’t be speaking; however, we both know you’ve been dying to get your hands into an investment of our nature since stock and projected longevity continue to increase. And, we both know you’ve never been in the right place at the right time; so I would strongly consider doing as I say.”  
“Do not come looking for me,” she warned. “I will find you by the end of the night. You may go.”

Bested and disgusted, DuPont left the dance floor speedily to rejoin his posse. Matt moved to stand behind her, his presence welcoming after dealing with DuPont. Despite her calm exterior and vicious demeanor, her stomach was in knots. DuPont reminded her of Malcolm in some ways and she could only imagine what the last task of the evening might be like.

“Are you alright?” his voice stern.

“Yes, I think so,” she replied. “How are you?”

“I’ve been better,” he nodded. “I didn’t know if you needed me to rescue you or not. But he sounded like a scum bag. How’s your arm?”

“Fine. I had a hunch that he was going to try and be physically dominating. I was watching him interact with others earlier and saw him get that way with women,” she turned around to face him.  
“Thank you for listening for me. I don’t need you to rescue me from everything…but on occasion I’ll need you to hold my hand while I stumble in the dark trying to save myself.”

“I can do that,” he nodded, offering his hand to her. “Though having some kind of signal for when you really want saving would be kind of helpful.”

“Ah, ah, ah…” she chided. “We’re still playing my game. No cheating.”

His hand returned to its original spot and he stood still. Calculated footsteps approached him until she was standing inches away; her arm lifting to have her palm ghost across his face. “Now, are you dreaming?” her voice hushed. “Am I here?”

“God, I hope so,” he smirked, hands tightening around his cane. “I’m in for a bad night if you’re not here and this is a dream. I would have paid a lot of money for a tux and a phantom dream of accompanying you to a gala.”

“Hmm,” she nodded with appreciation. “Look at you. The tux is good, but your gray suit does it for me a little bit more.”

“Really? Wow. I’ll take that under advisement. Might I inquire as to why?”

“It’s more you than the tux. Don’t get me wrong, you’re pulling it off very well,” admiration resounding in his ear. “But I think you look better in a suit. And out of one, for that matter.”  
He groaned, but she persisted. “I mean, I told Duquesne I hadn’t been looking when you got out of the shower, but if you were paying attention you would have known that was a blatant lie.”

“Miss MacDougall,” Matt licked his lips, “you’re torturing me. I want you to know that I’m sorry for picking on you earlier.” Her perfume filled his head and he gave another wry smile. “But I’m not sorry for last night.”

“That’s progress,” she turned and grabbed another glass of champagne. “The main items of business are done, for the most part. Duquesne warned me about the last guy; said he’s a real charmer. I’ll need help with him.”

He snorted, “What, you want me to terrorize him? I’m not the most formidable looking guy, Jen.”

“Oh, you can be. But no, I want you to make sure that I don’t overstep. I have a feeling he’s going to push my buttons. But that’ll be for after dinner.”  
“Speaking of, I have no idea what we’re eating tonight. Hopefully it’s something decent. Be good, Matt. I’ll be back for you, I promise. Mr. DuPont’s time is up.”

Jen disappeared into the crowd in search of her target and Matt, feeling desirously uncomfortable, made his way back to the bar to wait for her.

 

As per usual, Jennifer’s intuition was right: the woman that had been eyeing Matt at the bar the first time approached and began flirting shamelessly with him. Thunder resounded in his ears again letting him know that Jen’s business had concluded was on the move through the throng looking for him.  
_Let’s see how she likes it._

“What is it that you do, Dara?” he asked, turning up the charm.

“I’m help coordinate the charity work my CEO’s foundation supports. Occasionally, when she feels generous I’m able to go to these events in her place and mingle with the New York elite. What about you?”

Jen sat on the stool directly to his left and listened intently. Matt tilted his head to let her know he was aware she was so close.  
“I’m a law student at Columbia. Similar situation, I suppose…I don’t necessarily belong in the ranks of these people, but I got an invitation nonetheless.”

After ordering a double of rum neat, Jen whispered into her glass, “She’s cute. Stunning green eyes. Nice choice. Looks a little ditzy, though.” Matt cleared his throat and continued to listen to Dara speak of work. “Oh, so you are listening... That’s good. I’d look damn foolish just whispering into my drink without any kind of reaction out of it.”

“Surely you brought someone with you,” Dara cooed. “I can’t imagine you being here all alone.”

“Go ahead; lie. Let’s see what you’re made of, Matt,” Jen challenged under her breath.

“They’re a bad influence,” he shrugged. “I ditched them as soon as we got in here. I’m sure they’re somewhere, causing mischief to someone else’s life.”

She snorted, “You really think I’m a bad influence? And mischievous? That’s the truth.”  
She watched as Dara touched his arm several times trying to explain how she couldn’t believe someone so handsome was blind and Jen rolled her eyes.  
“Is that all you are to her? A pretty face? You’ve dazzled her with words and your education and still, she seems to be only interested in your face and throwing pity at it. What an idiot,” her words curt.

Matt knew she was right, and a there was an underlying tone of contempt in her words. It bothered her that this woman that he’d just met was lamenting over his disability rather than trying to actively learn anything about him. Somewhere in his chest, a spark of pleasure glowed brighter: Jen wouldn’t put up with anyone feeling sorry for him.

“Here’s my number,” Dara slid it under his fingers and placing a seductive kiss on his lips. “Call me sometime.”

Once she was a safe distance away, Jen nodded and sipped her drink. “Well, I like her. Definitely your type. She just handed her number on a napkin to a blind man. Oh, Matt: call her. I’ll even put the number in your phone for you so that when you’re roaring for a pity party, she can be at your door in ten minutes flat.”

His head pivoted in her direction, face flat before they both cracked up, struggling to do their best to stifle their laughter.  
“Wow,” she wheezed, taking another drink. “I mean, I know I’m an asshole and wrote you a note once…but then I called you to tell you I was an asshole _and_ I bought you breakfast out of it.”

Heat was radiating from her right hand as it hovered over his left leg. “You a little jealous, Jennifer?” _My skin feels like it’s on fire. Damn it, Jen._

“Me? Pfft. No,” she countered. “Not yet. You will have to try a _little_ harder than that.”

 “Hi there,” he whispered, changing the tone of their conversation.

“Hi. How was your day?”

“Sorry I was late. My tux is at the dry cleaners; Foggy called in a favor to get me a new one,” he leaned his shoulder against hers.

“No need to apologize,” she reminded him. “The tux does look good on you. I think it’s a keeper. It sits on your frame well.”

“Thank you. How did business go?”

“Fine, Katzinger was a breeze _,”_ she replied softly. “Though, I do have to wonder about the last gentleman.”

Matt worked an eyebrow up in thought, “How do you mean?”

“Well,” she cleared her throat, “Katzinger was a breeze right? And DuPont , though an asshole, was a little difficult. He reminds me a lot of Malcolm and I had to restrain myself from pummeling him when he grabbed be. So, what kind of shitbag is Gibson? Because Duquesne was only allowing me to go tonight if you came with me.”  
“The trouble of the matter is that Gibson is able to figure out trends that will happen in New York before the rest of the business world does which gives him a leg up on his competition. Duquesne wants to know what's coming in the next couple of years because it's going to take time to get the ball rolling for his new restaurant in the city.”

“Jen, you need to stop underestimating yourself. Look,” he said turning to fully face her, “by the sounds of it Duquesne has pretty much taken you under his wing. As the man in the room with absolutely no pull, I think you’re doing an amazing job, especially with DuPont. I have to admit, even I felt the ice dripping off your words when you put him in his place.”  
“Go over the facts. What do you officially know about Gibson and what have you observed?”

She inhaled slowly through her nose and leaned back in the stool, moving her hand away from his to brace against the bar top.  
“I know that Duquesne thinks he's dirty and ruthless; can’t stand him. I also know that he hasn't mingled with any of the other guests at the party except for the same ten or so people that are sitting up there with him on the patio. I haven't heard his voice at all because he's just sitting there, listening to what everyone is saying.”  
“And did you seriously just say that you have no pull in the room?”

“Uh, y – yeah; because I don’t. Look around the room, Jen. It’s not exactly a court room.”

“Matt, you brilliant idiot.” His brows furrowed and he cocked his head to the side. “All you would have to do is tell me that we had to go and I would follow you out that door to wherever it is we would be going. Had you not heard me snap my fingers and gone after DuPont, I would have celebrated you as a damn champion and paraded you around this whole floor praising you.”  
“You have all of the pull in the room because you are the person here that matters the most to me.”

“Now that’s a line that would make anyone fall in love,” he rolled his head back and smiled.

“Alright, alright, hot shot. Do you want another drink before we go over to take our seats for dinner?”

“Sure, I’ll take another. But it’ll be the last one I have tonight. One of us has to get you home fairly sober.”

She flagged the bartender down and waited her turn for him to attend to her. “I’m glad you’re here with me,” she confided. “I wasn’t ready to do this on my own yet.”

“You have done it on your own. You did all that business on your own with no help from anyone using the information that Duquesne sent you.”

“Yeah, but you’re here with me…helping.”

“Oh, I’m a big help,” his reply sarcastic.

“You are. You’re listening to me vent about my frustrations and angst; and – and you’re aiding my decompression before I get tagged in for part three after dinner. So thank you.”

“Yes, another round for me and get the gentleman beside me a double of Macallan, neat. Thanks.”

Drinks in hand, the pair made their way to their seats and sat through a series of speeches concerning philanthropy. Jen fired off a text to her boss asking if she were to make a donation in the company’s name and waited for a reply.

Their first course was brought out to them and Matt did his best to hide his laughter. Jen shot him a dirty look and elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut. Up. It’s not funny.”

“You’re absolutely right: there’s nothing funny…about…pea soup…” he wiped a tear from his eye.

“Christ,” she lamented staring down at her bowl, gritting her teeth. “That’s some divine comedy. Oh…” she lamented, pushing the bowl as far up the table as she could without knocking into someone else’s place setting. “That’s wretched.”

He patted her leg and took note of how her dress felt under his palm. “Can I do anything for you?”

“Nope,” she groaned, pushing back in her chair. “No cheating, Matt…  I just gotta try and not dry heave until this course is done. Totally fine. I can do this. I just helped make a multi-million dollar deal for Duquesne Enterprises…I can deal with the smell of peas.”

The main course was brought out next and a vegetarian option was put in front of Jen; chicken in front of Matt. She groaned and he could easily smell why: _More peas. Oh, that’s just cruel._

“Stop, stop,” Matt urged her hands away from the plate when they were beginning to pick apart the dish. He picked up her plate and traded his entrée with hers. “I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I forced you to suffer through two courses of it. I’ll eat whatever this is. Eat the chicken.”

“Bless you,” she sighed. When he took the first bite, he chewed slowly and swallowed. MacDougall grimaced and leaned in to whisper, “Be glad you can’t see it. Would you rather share?”

“God, yes. This is awful. What is it?”

“Beats me. Here,” she guided his fork to her plate.

“I think I’ve figured out a way for you to get to Gibson,” Matt said between bites. “Me.”  
“I’ve got great ears. What if I go up where he’s been hiding and listen to the conversation and let you know what’s going on?”

“You want me to take advantage of your supersonic bat hearing? That’s low. I don’t like it. It’s like I’m using you.”

“I’m offering my supersonic bat hearing, Jen, there’s a difference. But if you want me to help you out, there’s a price.”

“As with any good business transaction. Alright, Murdock, what’s your price?”

“Once I figure it out, I’ll let you know. After dinner, I’ll go up and listen for a while. I’ll just need you to come get me and bring me back down, alright? Don’t sweat it. I gotta contribute to the free meal somehow, no matter how bad it is.”

 

_To: Jennifer MacDougall_

_Attached below is the account_   
_information you can use for the_   
_donation. Write the check for_   
_$100,000._

_I just got a phone call from_   
_DuPont. You made an impression._   
_He hates your guts. And it took you_   
_less than twenty minutes. Good._

“Duquesne’s impressed,” she announced. “I have to make a donation for the company. I can do that while you’re upstairs. Also, I don’t know how much he paid per plate, but this dinner is kind of bad.”

“You’re being a bit generous. It’s awful and I don’t have to see it and I still know it’s awful. I’m thinking, as long as work’s done, that we bolt early and go get something real to eat after. What do you say?”

“Deal.”

Dinner and idle conversation with the other guests had bored him. At the first chance he could after the service, Matt made his way to the balcony following Jen’s directions. He waited in the corner, back to his target with expectant ears. He stood for nearly twenty minutes waiting for Gibson to say anything but he did not. The people he surrounded himself with, however, did all of the talking.

“And did you see what Santos’ wife is wearing? Atrocious!” one of the women gasped. “Honestly, _anything_ could have been better than what she’s wearing.”

Gibson’s heart rate remained constant as if nothing could spur it to attention. As asked, Jen came upstairs to grab Matt and he shook his head.

“They’ve done nothing but talk about fashion and he hasn’t said a damn word the entire time I’ve been up here.”  
_That’s the point though, isn’t it? He’s listening to everything around him…like I would. He’s listening for words in the crowd…_

“Damn it,” she whispered.

“I think you should tell Duquesne about his investment opportunities here in New York,” Matt replied casually if not a little louder than normal.

Jen squinted at him, crossing her arms. “What the hell are you talking about? Duquesne just started looking recently…I just got the first investor to sign today.”

“I know,” he whispered and lifted his eyebrows.

She blinked quickly and understood what her partner was trying to achieve. “I just got to work today, Matt. You need to back off. Duquesne isn’t even one hundred percent sure that he wants to have an operation here in the city. He thinks it’ll be a nice little trophy to add up on the wall.”

“But I thought it was a done deal; at least that’s the way he expressed it to me last week.”

“He wouldn’t have sent me out here if it were,” she quipped coolly.

_There…a spike…I think we got him. Keep going, Matt…don’t let up now._  
“I was doing just fine here on my own, setting up times to meet with potential investors to pitch the restaurant to them.”

“Look, you’re new and it’s cute that you think that you know what you’re doing. Handling the affairs of Duquesne Enterprises takes more than just setting up time with potential clients and your charming smile. It takes finesse, rigor; power…all thing that you don’t have.”  
“Duquesne sent me out here because you took too long and he doesn’t want the whole world knowing that he’s got his eye on New York for his next venture after London. So why don’t you stop wasting his time… _and mine_ …and go back to playing in whatever sandbox you came out of and leave the real work to the grownups?”

“Excuse me,” a dark, raspy voice cut in.

They turned to find a rather impish looking man with beady eyes looking at the pair of them. “Yes, can I help you?” Jen smarted off.

“I couldn’t help but overhear that you were talking about a Duquesne Restaurant coming to New York; do you work for him?”

“Matt Murdock,” he extended his hand out.

“Not you, my man. She holds all the cards,” he offered his hand to Jen instead. Matt nodded and clasped his hands behind his back.  
“Paul Gibson.”

“Jen MacDougall,” she shook his hand. “No, that’s not what was said and even if it were implied, it’s speculation.”

“What if I said that I could make it worth your while if you indulge me with ten minutes of conversation, would you be interested?”

Jen nonchalantly wiped something off the fabric of her dress and sighed, exasperated. “I don’t know you… You have two minutes.”

“You’re definitely new to the scene if you don’t know who I am, little lady. Shame. If your boss had done a better job of keeping you in the loop… He certainly knows who I am” a conniving smile splayed on his lips.

“Oh. No, I know who you are, Mr. Gibson and I understand why so many people value your opinion; I respect that. I still don’t know you.” She motioned a finger back and forth between them, “You and I don’t know each other, and I don’t just give out information to people that I don’t know. What you do with your time and everyone else here at this party is up to you.”

_Jen, easy…he is_ not _happy._ Matt leaned forward on his cane and listened intently.

“Listen here, whelp,” he took a step in Jen’s direction. “I give a sentence or two about how I think that Duquesne’s venture would be a flop and he would have to close his doors in a matter of months. That’s how good I am and why the people at this party in this city listen to what I have to say. Katzinger leans an ear my way, too, you know.”

“I’m aware,” she stiffened. “I just don’t care. If you want to talk to Mr. Duquesne about his potential ventures then you should be speaking with him and not me. Besides, your attitude of rejecting a possible venture before it could be fully realized is a sign of bad business for this city.”  
“You don’t understand that I have enough faith in my company’s ability that you justifying and explaining why it might not succeed doesn’t matter. That would involve me putting value on what you have to say to affect me the same way that it does my employer. It doesn’t.”

Matt felt Gibson’s temper getting ready to spill over and extended his arm protectively in front of Jen. “What I believe my partner is trying to state is that while we are in the business of innovation and meeting supply and demand, it is important to pay attention to all things. The complex parts of our work sometimes get in the way of understanding and paying attention to the simpler things.”

“Henry Ford,” Gibson nodded appreciatively, cooling down. “Or at least paraphrasing what he had said.”

“Look,” Jen took a verbal step back and placed her hands up in apology. “It’s been a long two days for me and I will apologize if I seem exceptionally short. I would like to stress that I have a deadline swiftly approaching because my partner decided to vacation more than work when he came to the city,” she eyed him angrily.

“Guilty,” Matt admitted with a flash of a smile. “Boss doesn’t let me out very often, to be fair…the whole hard of sight thing is a bit of a hindrance.”

“But the fact remains that you and I don’t know each other and for all I know, you could be willing to sabotage the company in some way, regardless if our initial meeting would have gone smoothly. My job within the company is to run it as if it could be run without money: how best am I to serve it and make it perform to the demands that are thrust upon it,” she added. “However, if you would want to get to know who I am and how I conduct business for Duquesne Enterprises, then I would welcome the opportunity to find out the kind of man that you are.”

Gibson’s eyes shifted back and forth between Matt and Jen before he turned away and shrugged. “If Duquesne thinks that he can make it here with everything that he has going against him in that market, I’d like to see him try if the best he can muster to handle his affairs are an invalid and a bimbo. You’re out of your depth, MacDougall; you don’t know what pieces are moving where and you just sat down at the most expensive game of chess without knowing how to play.”  
“Please, give my regards to your boss and tell him that the next time he sends someone and they cross my path, I’ll be far less forgiving that I am to you.”

When Matt felt her body chamber itself to go after him his hand shot out again, this time to stop her. “Let it go, Jen. Come on; downstairs. Let’s go.”

_You can’t be serious? What a fucking slimeball! Why is he stopping me? What the hell, Matt? Did you not hear what he just said?_

“Calm down,” Matt instructed. “Slow down your breathing and take me downstairs. Now, Jennifer.”

She glared up at him, fire in her eyes. “You’re so lucky you can’t see me right now.”

“I can hear you just fine, though. Come on,” he ushered her towards the stairs.

Once they got down to the stairwell, she had regained some of her outward composure but she was seething. Her skin felt hot, the aromas from dinner lingered in the air, and she wanted nothing more than to leave.

“That son of a bitch,” she snapped, rounding the corner and ducking behind the stage. “He knew…he knew!”

“I think so,” he agreed.

“He overheard me talking to Katzinger and – and I just fucking fell into that mess…for fucking what? What if he really holds as much sway as Duquesne thinks? I would have just shit on his plans before they even get off the ground!”

“Jen, I don’t know what to tell you,” his palms facing upward at his waist in defense. “You tried and it didn’t work out as planned. Things happen. Duquesne knows that; it’s what he does and it’s what you’re going to do. You sitting here and fuming over it isn’t going to help any.”

“Did you not hear what he said? Huh? That son of a bitch.”

Matt heaved an impatient sigh and crossed his arms. “Alright. Are you more mad that you fell into his verbal trap or that he called you a bimbo? Let’s hash it out, right now; because I really don’t want to be second guessing why you’re pissed for the rest of the night.”

Bewildered, she walked in a tight circle before rounding back on Matt. “Those being the only two things that bother me? Are you fucking kidding? He called you an invalid!”

“He’s not entirely wrong. It was a term for those that are disabled. Why does it bother you?”

“Why doesn’t it bother you?” she nearly shouted before covering her mouth to quiet herself. “It implies that you’re weak and you are far from it. Don’t you ever let someone like him imply that. You aren’t.”

“Jen, what he knows of me in the five minute conversation we all had versus what you know about me in the year and a half we’ve known each other aren’t even remotely comparable. You’re looking for an excuse for a fight again because he got the better of you,” he stepped closer. “That happens in life all of the time. Now, instead of bristling up for a fight that you can’t win right now, stop and think what you’re going to do about it in the long run.”

She leaned against the wall, air rushing from her lungs, indignant. “He’s still an asshole.”

“That’s not even up for debate. People are going to try and play on what pushes your buttons. Even if they do, you can’t let them know they’ve been successful. The fine specimen before you has obtained various diplomas and degrees in shrugging off people’s insults and douchey-ness,” he smirked. “Don’t let your temper and want of a fight get the better of you.”

Jen laughed softly and ran her fingers through her hair. “I have to call Duquesne in the morning and let him know I messed up.”  
She closed her eyes and listened to the band playing music and felt a little more at peace. “Come on, Murdock; dance with me.”

“Dance? You’re joking.”

“No,” she stood upright and walked to his side. “One dance and then we can leave this party and go about our own business for the evening. Sound fair?”

“I don’t really dance, Jen. It’s not a matter of _quid pro quo_.”

“Then try, for tonight…with me. Everyone else here doesn’t matter and I certainly am not going to laugh at you…much. Please?”

“Doesn’t that break the rules of your game?”

“Yes, technically. But…um…well, I’m done playing that for now,” she replied, quiet.

Matt extended his hand, hers wrapping gently around his palm, and was led out onto the dancefloor. “At least the music is slow, as a bonus. I don’t have to worry about any ridiculous dance moves.”

She snorted and took his left hand in her right, realizing that their dominant hands were mirrors of each other.  
_Huh. Neat.  
_“True, though I’m not really one for the fast stuff; and this band is good. Now,” she wrapped his arm behind her back and placed her other hand on his arm, “I’ll lead and you just have to follow me. I promise I won’t do anything drastic.”

“You lead and I follow? That’s just asking for trouble,” he jabbed. “But if you insist.”

Swaying side to side and stepping in a small circle, the pair blended in with every other couple dancing on the floor. They talked quietly between each other so that no one else could hear, her expressing her disappointment in herself and him reminding her that it would work out the way it was supposed to. When the band funneled the sound into a decrescendo, Matt lamented that their one dance was over sooner than he would have preferred.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“A little,” she nodded. “I used to play in groups like this off and on. They’re a blast and really make you focus on listening to music as a conversation, you know?”

“Y–yeah, uh, yeah. I do. Do you want to stay for one more song?”

“A-ha!” she chuffed. “You’re having fun.”

“Shh, don’t tell anyone. My dour and sullen cover would be completely blown. If you want, we can stay for one more; but, I am getting pretty hungry and it’s got to be at least nine thirty at this point,” he observed, feeling for his watch.

“Alright, but only because you’re having a good time,” she nudged. “What do you think of the dress?”

“So the metal is gold and the fabric’s black?”

“Yep. And it’s sleeveless with a high collar. The gold parts separate a little bit…uh, kind of like a…oh what’s it called…a box pleat that is stretched apart. It’s one of the more comfortable dresses I’ve been in.”

“A box pleat? What the hell is a box pleat?”

“Remember watching the bagpipers that would come through during parades?”

“Vaguely.”

“The kilts are often folded into box pleats. I dunno…I can show you later when I’m not in heels and we aren’t here. I’m just trying to say that there’s more fabric between the lines of gold the further down the dress they go.”

“Isn’t is simpler to say it like that?”

She rolled her eyes, “Well, excuse me for trying to be descriptive.”

“You rolled your eyes, didn’t you? Be honest.”

“I did. What are you going to do about it?“ she teased him as the opening chords traveled invisibly through the air.

Her heart jumped and her chest swelled against him. “What? What’s wrong?”

“This song,” she whispered. “I love this song. It’s Gershwin. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Why?” he asked, moving in time with her.

“It’s just…beautiful. It’s in _Porgy and Bess_ …just listen to those chords and the melody just floats…” she rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. “I used to sing it to myself a lot when I felt lost growing up.”

Matt rested his chin in her hair and pulled her closer to him, keeping in time with the slow pulse of the music. “Do you remember the words?” he asked but she was already quietly singing.  
_That voice…it’s…so calm and heartfelt…and emotional…it’s like – like everything that she doesn’t want to say is pouring out of her and…and I’m the only one in the audience. It feels like she’s singing to me. And just me. No one else._

“ _Summertime, an’ the livin’ is easy_ ,” her voice hushed. “ _Fish are jumpin’ an’ the cotton is high. Oh, your daddy’s rich and your ma is good lookin’…so hush, little baby, don’ you cry_.”

The second verse came to her just as readily and when the band moved about into a second bridge and soloing, Jen hummed harmonies and countermelodies that filled Matt’s ear with music that resound more wholistic and agreeable for the soul. He had no doubt that whatever composing she dabbled in sought out similar melodic and harmonic lines; and, whatever lullaby she was writing for JJ would be remarkable.

_Summertime_ gradually came to its end with the crowd clapping appreciatively as the band came to the front of the stage for a small bow.  
“Alright,” Jen said. “Let’s go get something to eat and blow this popsicle stand.”

Matt nodded and extended his cane. “Agreed. What are you in the mood for?”

Jen led them out of the venue and back out into the city. “I don’t know,” she replied after a time. “Do you want to just grab something or do you want to sit down somewhere? There’s a place Sullivan and Spring Street that Rachel likes, I’ve not been there. How close is that to us?”

“Not far…It’s a ten minute walk or so, I would think. What do they serve?”

“No idea,” she replied, scrolling through her phone. “All I remember is her taking about how they open at four in the afternoon and are open until, like…four in the morning and it’s where she likes to go to get all kinds of food. Want me to see if I can reserve a table?”

“Alright, yeah; we can try it,” he opened the door to the town car for her. “Nearly anything has to be better than what was served upstairs.”

Jen took his hand and slid into the back of the car, instructing their driver where they were off to. “Do you want to join us, Oscar?” she asked casually.

“J-j-join you, ma’am? Uh, n-n-n-no, th-th-thank you; it’s not really my k-k-kind of thing. Thank y-y-you for offering, Miss MacD-d-d-dougall,” the man stuttered.

“You’re welcome,” she replied kindly. “And MacDougall’s a mouthful; please, call me Jen.”

“Thank y-y-you, Miss J-j-jen.”

Matt slid onto the seat beside her and sat quietly. Jen divulged, “Oscar stutters; be patient with him. He’s a really nice, older guy and might know New York better than you.”  
“Oscar? You’re the best, I want you to know.”

Kind eyes peered back at her through the rearview mirror and the older man smiled. “Th-thank you.”

Once they arrived at their destination, Jen inhaled deeply and elbowed Matt. “Whatever’s in there is a thousand times better than whatever we had at the gala just on smell alone.”

There was an enormous variety of savory aromas wafting around through the air. A loud growl roared in his stomach eliciting Jen to stop and quirk a brow up, impressed.  
“I mean, I ate fruit this morning,” he challenged. “And someone was sitting on me, so I didn’t even really eat a lot of it.”

“Right,” she chuckled. “The nerve of some people.”  
“They’re setting our table at present and it’s kind of on the cramped side in here. They’re putting us in the corner of the booth, if that’s okay?”

“It sounds busy, good thing you were able to snag a table,” he nodded. “I’m not concerned so much with where we sit. Wherever is good.”

The host guided them to their table and presented them with their menus. Murdock whispered something into the host’s ear before sitting down and his hands ran over the paper. He could feel the subtle changes where the ink lay but it was going to be difficult to read.

Jen leaned into his ear, “I’ll read it to you, don’t worry.”

“Thank you,” he replied with a nod.

“So…entrees: are we thinking seafood, beef, poultry; pasta? They have a fried chicken dinner, but they also have Paella Basquez , rack of lamb, and skate. There’s a lot of really good food on this menu.”

“Or, we could both get something different and share,” he offered.

“You’re so smart,” she quipped. “I’m game. Anything that I read off sound appetizing?”

“Someone nearby has to have the chicken,” he divulged. “I can smell it and I think that’s what I want.”

Jen’s head turned on a swivel until her eyes rested on a plate across the walkway. “It looks pretty dope, if I may add. Uh…right, here it is. Comes with mashed potatoes and collard greens. I’m thinking French onion soup and the salmon. It’s either that or catfish. Do you have a preference?”

“Salmon is pretty hard to mess up,” he offered. “I’d pick that of the two, but you order what you want. I can eat both.”

Matt relished how close Jen was to him in the corner of the booth. The energy she gave off when she had her business mindset versus when she could just be herself was a welcome change. If he had to, he realized he could compare Work-Jen to a predator being alert and ready to strike and Normal-Jen being the feeling behind the sigh you give when walking through your front door after being away for too long.  
While he sat and listened to her talk about anything and everything, he realized that she liked to talk with her hands regardless of him being able to see it or not and, on occasion, she would think faster than she could talk when she was excited and skip words.  
Jen would bite her bottom lip when she said something inappropriately amusing, when she’d steal glances at him,  or when she felt that she’d been talking too much; bite the inside of her cheek when she was deep in thought, and tap her fingers on the table in odd patterns that he attributed to her tuba playing when certain songs would play over the speakers.

“Earth to Matt,” she called. “Anyone home?”

“Sorry,” he sat upright and shook his head. “I was thinking.”

“Dangerous,” she whispered. “Here,” her hands moved to his neck and undid his tie. “That’s better.”

“Thank you?” _No, that’s a definite thank you._

“I mean, I like it better. Figured that was important. And we’re back to playing the game now.”

Matt leaned his head backward and exhaled slowly. “That’s just mean.”

She shrugged and sipped her drink, “I am. Thank you for noticing.”

Over the course of dinner, they talked about a wide variety of topics and Jen was reminded of the first time that they had met. This setting had a similar feeling to it where she felt comfortable and safe letting someone see snapshots of who she was.

“Don’t tell Foggy that,” he goaded. “Man loves baseball; he’ll be crushed.”

“I just…I don’t think it’s a good game to play and I just can’t find it enjoyable to watch. It’s so boring. Like golf,” she whined. “Like…they had to add math to make baseball more interesting. I really don’t care about RBI or whatever averages.”

“I could argue the same thing about hockey, though. There’s math in just about everything, Jen. So why do you like hockey more than baseball?”

“Outside of it not being boring?” she asked, his laugh spurring her on. “I feel…this is going to sound weird…but when you play, it’s more…intimate? And that might not even be the right word for it. But you have to rely on your teammates to make things work and if there’s a fight…you know who has your back.”

“If you say so.” _Intimate? Intimate. That’s the word she used. Physical and intimate. If that doesn’t give ideas…_

Their waiter appeared and asked if there would be anything else for the evening’s meal. Jen declined, as did her partner in crime, and she reached for her clutch.  
“It’s already been paid, ma’am,” the young waiter explained.

“Paid? By whom?”

The young man’s eyes moved toward Matt and she nodded, leaving him to go about his duties.

“I thought I said that I was buying,” she reminded him.

Matt stood and gestured for Jen to lead the way out. “You did. Which is why when we were seated, I told the host that I was taking care of dinner.”

“Hmpf,” she hummed, walking out the front door with him close behind.

Outside, Matt pressed, “I mean, I’ve got Dara’s number in my pocket. If you’d rather I’d have called her and gone out to dinner with her instead…”

“Go ahead,” she responded coolly. “You want me to dial her number for you?”

“You could,” he stood a little taller and rested his hands atop his cane. “But you realize that I’d be with someone else for the remainder of the evening.”

She felt how his words had flipped a switch in her mind and changed the way she carried herself. Her back straightened, she stepped closer to Matt and clasped her hands behind her back while her eyes gave him a once over.  
“And?” her voice husky. “I’ve got a nice little selection of people I could spend my evening with. Didn’t you hear?”

_God damn it, Jennifer. Why do you have to be so close when you do that? This is brutal. And great, now my face feels hot. Try not to think about it. Right. That’ll be easy. Don’t think about what her skin feels like…or how her muscle moves underhand…shit. Think of something else…sad puppies. Yeah. Sad puppies, sad puppies…_  
“I heard,” his lips pressing into a firm line. “Then I better take you home.”

 

The ride back to the loft had been charged between them. Jen felt an odd twinge of jealousy sitting in her chest. Outside of the dancing portion of her evening, the two of them had been playing her game and respecting the rules.  
_Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I wanted anyone else to enjoy touching him the way I want to. And he knows it. That’s why he’s pushing my buttons. What an ass. Yeah…well, I can play that game, too, you know.  
Jesus. Why does he have to be…so…stubborn? Just tell me what you want. For Christ’s sake…_

The ride in the elevator was silent and Jen exited first to unlock the front door. Matt followed inside and closed the door behind him.

“Oh? You’re not leaving?” she tossed over her shoulder offhandedly.

“You know that I’m not,” his voice dark. She turned to face him. “Not a chance.”

“She seemed nice,” she teased, moving closer to him after dropping off her clutch and slipping out of her shoes. “I don’t know why you don’t jump at a chance for a piece of that. She’s obviously very interested in you…or at least parts of you.”

“I don’t need pity. I get that enough from everyone,” he retorted firmly, fingers tapping against his leg.

Jen crossed her arms over her chest, retorting, “Then what _do_ you need, Matt? An inquiring mind would like to know.”

“Are we done playing your game?” he removed his glasses and set them on the kitchen island.

“I don’t see how that has anything to do with my question.”

“Are we _done_ playing your game,” he reiterated more firm. _Yes. You do._

Jen pulled at his undone tie and tossed it onto the island. “Does that answer your question?”

“No. Tell me that we’re done playing.”

Blood thundered in her ears, her mouth was going dry and her stomach flipped. This side of Matt spoke to other parts of her that she kept hidden and it was clawing at its cage to be let out. The back of her neck was hot and she felt her cheeks flush.  
“We’re done.”

Matt’s arm curled around her waist and pulled her to collide against him; another wry smirk unveiled when she gasped. His head bent forward and his mouth closed against hers, his free hand holding her face.  
“I need this,” he whispered. “I need you to know that I didn’t like it when you were with DuPont and he was able to touch you. That I have wanted to see you since I woke up and that I’ve wanted to kiss you since you left this morning. I need you to know that your game’s been absolute torture to know that you were so close but I couldn’t touch you…”

Jen’s hands traveled up to his shoulders and peeled the tux jacket away from his frame, gently tossing it over the arm of the couch. Air passed through her nose quickly and her eyes moved from point to point on his face. She moved his hands to her waist and licked her lips.  
“Here I am.”

Matt swallowed hard as his fingers brushed first over her dress and then down her arms. “I can see you,” he whispered, lips parted. “Jen…”

_Something’s snapped in me; it’s definitive…I heard it…I felt it. It sounds like a branch cracking in an empty wood, echoing and despite the action not being grandiose in nature, it’s resounding violently in my mind as if a section of my soul has finally aligned into place. And he did it. This man before me. I was right. He’s piecing me back together, one shard at a time whether he realizes it or not._   
_I don’t believe in fate. I think it unlikely in the cosmic balance of the universe. But couldn’t one argue that me sitting alone in that bar last year brought me to this moment…here…tonight?_   
_Everything I need…not want; but need, was said in a single syllable. And when that syllable passed his lips I realized that it’s not about yesterday, it’s not about two days ago or tomorrow…this is about right here and right now. It’s in that word that I can hear everything I need to know about Matthew Murdock, what he needs from me; what I need from him…_   
_In this fraction of a minute, he stands there in front of me, patiently waiting for my response with an arm anchoring me to him and another holding my hand. Like he said that he would. Christ. If all people were able to bring someone else to their mindset with just a word, imagine what kind of place this world would be._   
_Oh! That word? That word that’s telling me to finally let go, to bare what’s left of me and expose my demons…is my name. How else would Matt ask for this except for using only my name like a question, a devotion; a prayer?_

Her hand moved to the back of his neck and she nodded, her heart beating wildly in her throat, “Yes.”


	15. Copper and Bone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter and Passover, friends!
> 
> You can have another chapter; a present from me to you with love!

_Today_

There’s a taste of slick copper coating my tongue and I can barely breathe out of my nose. The pain in my shoulder is pulsing like a God damned jackhammer made of fire. I can’t feel the fingers on my left hand anymore. That fucking cord’s been digging into my wrist for god knows how long now; but, at least I got my right hand free.  
How long has it been? I was walking home a little after eight thirty…and then they brought me here. As I look around, I can tell it’s still dark out, so I must have dozed off for a bit. It feels like hours, to be honest; but that’s the funny thing about remembering memories as dreams: time’s convoluted.

“She’s awake,” I can hear one of them say.

Yes. It’s coming back to me now. One of those asshats had walked over here trying to play good cop. He wanted to know information about Daredevil and how I might be connected. I shrugged him off, of course because this bitch ain’t a snitch, that’s for sure. That’s when bad cop came over and socked me across the face.

Ah, yeah, yep; I remember now. That’s why I was having flashbacks. Not that I mind. Most of those memories were pleasant. And I was just getting to the good part, too. Well damn. I’ll have to revisit that again soon.

Good cop is closest to me. Bad cop’s got to be nearby. There’s an asshole sitting in the corner and four of them in the back playing cards. Cards? That’s a little cliché, isn’t it? That’s seven scum bags…no…there should be more… I remember more, don’t I?

My right hand his still free, I remind myself. I have my forefinger tucked into the cord so that when the opportune time arrives, I can slip it and do as much damage as possible. This may or may not be that moment. We’ll see.

“Yeah,” I cough, forcefully spitting the blood in my mouth off to the side. “I’m awake. Who hit me?”

The biggest guy in the room gives a voluntary nod. Of fucking course it would be him. I think I’m going to call him Tiny.  
“Well, well; Tiny. You hit like a bitch,” I throw my head back and laugh. The movement causes my left shoulder to throb and my breathing hitches in my throat. The muscles spasm and if I thought the pain couldn’t get worse, I realize I am wrong.

“Listen here, woman,” the good cop tries to soothe me. It’s annoying. “We know that Daredevil has saved you twice now. We got eyes that were on you. All we want to know is what you know and then you’ll walk out of here.”

That’s it? That’s all? Oh, do they want me to do a little song and dance for them, too? What horseshit.  
My head rights itself and I sigh, “Blow me.”

My face lurches to the right, my left cheek feels as if a brick has been lobbed at it. I mean, it’s close. The first guy used backhands on me. This asshole full on decked me and now my teeth have cut up in inside of my cheek and tongue. Once the stars are done dancing in my vision and dissipate, I turn and spit blood at his feet.  
“What makes you think I even know anything, eh? Daredevil saves who he can in this city. Some of us are just more apt to getting our asses in trouble than others. I’m not the only one, you know.”

“Yeah,” Tiny sneers. “But you’re the only one that seems to give a shit about him. I saw it with my own two eyes. You carried that bastard and held him as he came to; it was touching.”

I laugh, and I’m not talking a cutesy giggle here. I laugh so hard that my gut hurts and the tone of it sounds malicious. “So, that’s what this is all about? Because after he got his ass beat once, I helped my fellow man out and made sure he was still breathing? Give me a fucking break, alright? You assholes don’t have shit and you don’t know shit.”  
“You want to know who Daredevil is? Go find him and ask him yourself, just like the rest of New York.”

A man in the corner, hidden in shadow, stood up and waved his hand at the other men in the room and they went back to being silent. “Then what use are you to us?”

“I’m not,” I reply. “I mean, there’s only two options here, isn’t there?”

“Only two?” his voice smooth. It sounded familiar, but perhaps I’d overheard it while I was in and out of consciousness.

I do my best to shrug. “Either I’m walking out of here or I’m being carted out in a body bag. Not that difficult to suss out,” I snap. “Honestly, do I have to be the smartest person in the room?”

“Bennet,” the smooth voice commands, “Up. Go stand next to our guest.” A man wearing far too much cologne and missing a number of teeth moves to stand beside me.  
“Now, where is Daredevil?”

“I don’t know,” I reply in honesty.  
It’s true. I have no idea where that asshole is. I’d like to hope he’s going to rappel down from the skylight at any given moment but considering how big this city is and how busy he’s been lately, the odds of him being here are pretty slim. But if this is the reaction I get for helping his ass off my roof once, then I’m a little pissed.

There was a snap of fingers. I watched in mild confusion as Bennet chambered his arm back and landed a blow to my left shoulder. If you’re still swimming around in my thoughts up there, I hope you can hear every damn expletive I know in every language I can think of. The pain is blinding to the point that all I see is white and I can’t breathe.

“Let’s try this again: where is Daredevil?”

I’m clenching my teeth hard enough that a small warning bell is going off in the back of my mind that I’m going to crack my molars. “I don’t know,” my voice growls haltingly.

Another finger snap. Action. Reaction.

Involuntarily, my head shoots backwards and I start bellowing out from the pain. My lungs are burning and I can feel the muscles in my throat tighten from strain. Sometimes, it’d be easier if I wasn’t so God damned stubborn.

“Again,” the voice is now mirthless. “Where is Daredevil?”

I shake my head, tears falling down my stinging cheeks. I snap behind clenched teeth, “Just have him hit me again and be done with it. I don’t know!”

Instead of a single snap, there were two and Bennet’s arm pulled back. I knew where it was going. He’d pivoted just enough. That driving blow made contact with my left eye and I flew backwards in the chair landing heavily on my back. Air rushed from my lungs as I did my best to gasp for breath. My skull bounced off the floor and my vision darkened. I wonder if I’ll pass out again. Ah. Yeah. It’s going to happen. Time to drift off back down memory lane. Sorry, intruder. You don’t get to come with me. It’s a private show, anyway.

Before I let the weighted blanket of unconsciousness take me, I hear Bennet’s voice, “She actually might not know anything.”

“More than likely,” the smooth-talking boss man replied. “But if using him against her didn’t work, then we need to switch it around. Maybe Daredevil’s got a thing for her. We can use her.”

Yeah, good fucking luck with that.


	16. Alight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did warn you back in Chapter 10 that this was coming.  
> Though fairly safe-ish, you might not want to read this one at work.
> 
> You are all lovely. Enjoy x

Standing on her toes, Jen’s lips met with his and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Heat seared her veins and fed a growing flame burning in her body. The pressure from his fingertips digging into the small of her back spurred her further. His mouth was soft and commanding and everything that she wanted it to be.

_That feeling in the pit of your stomach when you’re a teenager and you’ve snuck out or are in the basement and everything starts getting heavy and you’re afraid of getting caught? I lived on that. This is better. So much better._

Capable hands searched and found the zipper at the base of her neck, slowly pulling it down towards her tailbone while her hands made slow work of the buttons on his shirt. Jen’s fingers pushed the fabric away from his torso and the shirt fell freely to the floor.

“Now look who’s really something,” she said, admiration rampant in her voice.

Matt swallowed hard and Jen watched as the vein in his neck pulsed wildly, opting to place a kiss there. His lips parted, breathing heavily when her nails lightly raked down his chest and it delighted her.

“I could just leave you like this,” she teased, her mouth dry.

“You could,” he cleared his throat. “That would be cruel.”

Jen stepped away and tugged at his arm to follow her, which he did obligingly. She felt a sense of urgency to make his expression change; his face was maddeningly neutral when she wanted him to emote, to show her what was going on in his head. It was that sense of urgency that made her grab onto Matt’s arms and kiss him deeply again.  
_Something. Anything. Everything._

Matt couldn’t tell how long they had been all over each other like a pair of teenagers, but he knew it wasn’t enough. It took him by surprise when Jen pulled away and pushed him to sit on the edge of the mattress. He could hear how shallowly she was breathing and sensed how her tongue swept across the inside of her lower lip; how every muscle in her body was taut and her hands were growing cold: frustration.  
_What exactly is she frustrated about outside of the obvious?_

His thoughts were interrupted when Jen’s dress fell to the floor with the metal embellishments clicking against each other as the fabric pooled at her feet. Matt was keenly aware of what separated her body from him at the gala: mutual articles of clothing and a layer of makeup.

“Tell me, Mr. Murdock,” her voice rough. “Why did it bother you when I was with DuPont?”

_Oh…Matt…you are in for a world of trouble. Foggy was right. This is borderline painful. I can’t tell if I want her to stop or never stop…that’s dangerous._  
His jaw was set on edge, his hands sitting on his knees. “He’s an asshole that was more interested in objectifying you than understanding you.”

“You think you understand me?”

“Enough,” he breathed. “About as much as I understand myself.”

“Were you angry?” Jen could still taste his mouth on her tongue.  
_You’ve gone and drank the Kool-Aid now, girl scout._

“Jealous,” he offered in honesty. “Angry when he grabbed you.”

“Why,” her question more of a statement.

_Because God damn it, Jen. That’s why. Jesus._  
“Because…you let me see you. And – and I have this feeling in my chest that…th-that I have to protect you however I can. And not your body, Jen…you can do that…but the part of you I know, that I can see…the part that you can’t see…”  
“I got angry and jealous because no one else seems to see it and doesn’t care… I do.”

“So you understand,” she said gravely, “where I’m coming from when we were sat at the bar. I was working DuPont for business and you tried to make me jealous to spite me.”

“It was part of the game,” he replied, the scent of her perfume wafting off her skin.

Jen’s voice sounded hollow, “Not my game.”

She placed a knee on either side of his waist and straddled his lap, his hands bracing her upright at her waist much to her delight. Her hands quickly made work of his belt and the fly of his tuxedo trousers, causing them both to groan brashly when she lowered herself back down.

Nails raked against the skin at his throat and back as he balanced his partner against him. This wasn’t exactly what he had planned. He’d wanted to take his time, savor everything that Jen offered. But this? This was good.

Admittedly, she was right. He let jealousy get the better of him while she was working; he knew that Jen had agreed that they start whatever this was days ago…as if a contract that she’d be as loyal as she was able to him. He hadn’t had that, not really, in so long. Maybe that’s why he got jealous. He had been afraid that she was already looking to leave him despite her words saying she couldn’t. And in turn, he used that same emotion against her to put her through a similar kind of hell. Emotionally, he lamented doing so.

Physically, however, he was barely holding on to tangible thought as her body rocked against him. He closed his eyes, as if doing so would help him focus. Jen was alive like a raging fire in his hands and there wasn’t much he could do to contain it. Not that he wanted to. One hand splayed across her back, careful not to press into the bruised flesh and muscle, the other gripping the outside of her thigh holding tight, her being the last thing tethering him to the world.  
_Rather poetic there, Murdock._

“Jen,” he rasped. “Wait.”

“No,” she growled. “I won’t.”

_Shit. I’m not ready. I’ve been dying to touch her all night and now…now I’m being consumed by it and – shit this is going too fast. I don’t want her to stop…she has to though, or I’m going to lose it._

“Let go,” she whispered into his ear. “Let go, Matt.”

“But you…” he began, but she cut him off.

“I know. Just let go.”

Another groan resonated in his throat when she nipped at the soft skin at his neck and shoulder. He couldn’t think anymore. His jealousy, anger; hell, even his own wanton desire for Jen overtook him and he did just as she’d commanded him to.

Together, he felt as if they were both alone in the dark, hidden from view from everything that could try to harm them in the world and it was something both foreign and familiar.  
It wasn’t that he always felt lost in the dark. He lived in it, so to speak. Being with Jen in any capacity made him feel safe, protected. But here they were, both tumbling in the dark, together, and there wasn’t anywhere else he wanted to be. The feel of her skin, the ripple of muscle and bone under his hands, the rush of her breath in his ear; the taste of her lips.  
Despite everything he could easily perceive, it was the subtle things that made her dangerous to him: how her fingertips dug into his skin, the sheen of sweat on her forehead resting against his and the pleased groaning reverberating in her chest when he made any noise in appreciation. She was wolf-like. Feral. She wanted him. And it flooded his mind.

“Jen,” he breathed quickly, her name a warning.

She responded in kind with a low chuckle in her throat. “Good.”

Muscles contracted and released, he gripped onto her tighter; a strangled groan echoed in the air. She stopped moving against him and brushed her lips against his in a slow kiss, her fingers softly tracing the lines of his face and shoulders.

He panted, “Sorry. That’s usually not a problem.”

“I’m not,” she replied pushing stray hair out of his eyes. “That was a bit of the point.” He blinked in confusion, his hand caressing her leg.  
“It’s what you needed and I wanted to find you,” she paused. “And I did.”

Matt smiled sheepishly and nervously, still out of breath. He kissed her deeply and made a lamenting sound when she stood up.

“I’m getting a shower to get this makeup off of me,” she announced as she padded away. “I’ll come back to you. I promise.”

_Then I guess I haven’t been able to see her yet. I’ll give her that. All that was between her and I was layers of makeup to hide her battle scars. And think about it. She said that she always gets what she wants physically from someone…there’s no way that she’s satisfied. Hell. I’m not satisfied. But did she just choose me over herself? And if she did, why? You’re in over your head, Murdock._

Matt pulled his legs through the trousers and tossed the garment aside, falling backwards onto the mattress when the distant sound of falling water reached his ears. He could follow her in there. Make sure that she knew that he was thinking of her. But he elected to stay put. Jen had said, after all, that she was coming back.

 

Jen hadn’t spent long in the shower to be fair. She’d managed to scrub off everything she could reach between soap and makeup remover, but there was the matter of her back. The bruising was large enough that through some unique stretching, she’d been able to get bit of it off, but it still bothered her. That was always the problem she had during fight club days: she hated the feel of that concealer. It felt as if she was being smothered.

Jen grumbled to herself and peered into the mirror over her shoulder after fastening a towel to her waist. _Didn’t get as much as I thought. Damn_.

“Need help?” his voice made her jump. He smirked feeling her heart beat faster.

He was leaning against the door jam, an arm propping him up, clad in his boxers. She bit her lower lip and her face flushed. _Damn, you’re fine._  
“I’ll need to put a bell on you. Damn. And actually, a bit,” she tried to sound nonchalant.

He stepped into the bathroom and nodded. “I figured. What can I do for you?”

_A lot of things, actually…hopefully.  
_“There’s a bit of that makeup I couldn’t get off between my shoulder blades. If you don’t mind?”

She handed him the cotton pad with makeup remover on it and turned, sweeping her hair off to the side. Matt ran his left hand over the bare skin of her back and felt the subtle difference in texture, his right using gentle sweeping motions.

The practice was done in silence, Jen watching his face through the mirror, various levels of concentration and subtle smiles gracing the façade. “How can you tell?” her voice small, placing another cotton pad soaked in makeup remover in his expectant hand.

He blinked a few times, head turning towards her voice. “Uh. Well, it’s going to make me sound crazy. Or creepy. Or both.”

Jen laughed through her nose. “I think we’re good on that front.”

His well-practiced smirk appeared again. “Okay. Well, here,” his fingers trailed across her shoulder blade, “this is normal. I know that’s what your skin feels like. But here,” the same fingers moved to a patch of makeup. “It’s altered. Don’t get me wrong. It’s subtle. But it’s not the same.” She shivered. _Good._  
“It’s – it’s like people being able to tell the difference between an expensive replica and the real thing,” he swiped the pad over her skin. Her breath hitched in her throat. “I can tell what’s you and what isn’t.” Matt brushed his middle finger down the track of her spine slowly, listening to how she responded.

The last of the makeup removed, Jen looked over her shoulder to him and turned, the palms of his hands gently moving up and down her arms.  
Jen wanted to scream at him and tell him to stop playing his coy game with her and she wanted to whisper the words he needed to hear to piece him back together after everything that happened in his past. But instead, she pressed her body against him and smiled against his lips so that he could feel it before stealing a kiss.

Her skin was still hot from the shower, his feeling cool against her. Strong, capable hands traveled down her arms, around to her back, and cradled her behind; his mouth responding in kind to her invitation. She was confused for a moment as he bent at the knee awkwardly, his hands not moving, until she felt her feet lift from the ground.  
Automatically, her legs encircled his waist and her arms wrapped around his neck, and Matt Murdock carried her out of the bathroom and back to bed. He clicked the light off on the way out and the loft was again covered in darkness.

She didn’t care how he knew where to step or exactly how many strides it took to get to the bed. Or how he knew exactly where the light switch was without fumbling for it. It didn’t matter. Jen MacDougall was thoroughly enjoying herself, tasting Matthew and appreciating the fingers kneading her behind through the towel. His heart was beating wildly against his ribcage; she could feel it against her breasts. He smelled of the city and her perfume and sex and Macallan and dinner and her: it was agonizingly arousing.

Somewhere in transit, Matt had discarded her towel to the floor. She didn’t exactly remember, or care for the matter. Convinced that he wouldn’t drop her, Matt let a hand travel up to her back and tangled itself in her hair, pulling gently to expose her neck to his mouth.  
_That’ll work nicely. Listen to her. She’s smiling. Her neck is sensitive. Got it._

Her bare back met the glorious silk sheets of the bed, now cool from the air conditioner overhead. It was a new moon out, only the golden light from the street lamps was filtering in through the window. The hollow of his throat, the edge of his jaw; the curve of his shoulder caught the light as gilding would on a statue. Michelangelo, she thought, couldn’t have done better.

Lost in her thoughts, he’d shed his last article of clothing and came back into her. A high-pitched sigh of relief filled the air and she moved beneath him. Her hands at his waist pulled to guide him.

“Don’t,” he warned, stopping himself.

She leaned up on her elbows, bewildered. His hand moved delicately down her jaw and throat, her sternum, and finally down her ribs and side. Jen felt her muscles jump involuntarily at his touch as he explored different parts of her body. He neck craned forward to steal another kiss from him and his crooked mouth moved from her lips to her jaw, her neck to her shoulder.

“I want to find you,” he breathed against her skin. “Let me. Trust me, Jen. Trust me to find you.”

“I don’t understand,” she hummed, enjoying herself.

“Don’t guide me. Don’t show me. Don’t tell me what you want. I can hear you. I can feel you. I won’t lie to you; extend me the same courtesy now.”  
“So, don’t. Don’t you dare,” his voice was deep and soft, the tone of it absolute. He moved slowly against her causing her to gasp. “You can say my name. That’s all I need.”

_Holy fucking damn. That’s hot. I’m not even going to lie to myself._  
_And I ache. That’s the hell and thrill of it, isn’t it? That deep ache that feels like its never going to go away, throbbing with my heart’s beating…and I want Matt so badly. I want him to…it doesn’t matter, does it? The need that’s been clawing at every fiber of my being for the past seven or so months, what I’ve been wanting since I started shrugging off everyone else because I knew…deep…deep down that they would never compare…it’s setting my blood on fire and every cell; every molecule of my being is set alight._  
_How do I tell him? That I want this. Him. Now. And whatever he has planned. Ah…yes…I know how._

“Matt,” she whispered into his neck.

He was slow and methodical in his work: hands moving across her body, lips basking in the feel of her skin. She wondered how she had gone so long without anyone being that attentive or dedicated to her. Everything she’d experienced up to this point paled in comparison.  
_But maybe that’s what happens when you have two people that are genuinely interested in each other…maybe that’s what I was always missing… Holy Fuck… That…whatever that was. I like._

She groaned and Matt smiled against the skin at her waist. “Thought so,” he replied smugly.  
_Like a god breathing life into clay, indeed._

Jen writhed beneath him, breathless, “Matt!”

Matt knew she wouldn’t be long, her body was telling him secrets as he moved above her: This way, not that. Here, not there. Yes. No. Don’t stop.  
In the next moments, nothing else mattered to him. Her skin, her design; the breadth of her and all of her complexities were all he could think about. Jen trusted him enough at his word. She trusted him enough for this.

She shivered with pleasure and roughly kissed his collar bone, spurring him onward.  
_His bare skin against mine, the mingling of sweat and mutual exertion. Heat’s flushing the skin in my cheeks and chest. I can tell. And somehow he knows. Of course he knows. I sighed his name. Again._  
_He knows. He knows and I like that he knows. There’s an odd, intimate eroticism to it. Faster now. Because he knows. Good thing, too. My head is spinning and I don’t think I could verbalize any other words except for maybe ‘Christ’. Probably a good ‘Fuck’ or two. His name seems to be doing just fine.  
And there. I can feel my body coiling like a damn spring. I want this to last longer. But damn the man is good._

“Matt,” she hissed out in warning, her body struggling to get away from him.

The hand at her hip held her fast in place. “I know,” he growled in her ear. Her heart rate spiked at that, he thought. _Wonderful._ He nipped playfully behind her ear and she whimpered, a hand clamping onto his bicep and the other gripping at the pillow behind her.

An unintelligible cry that quite possibly could have been Matt’s name escaped her lips, every muscle in her body constricting, releasing, spasming. Her toes curled into the bed sheet and her back arched upward before she sighed. A few moments more and Matt followed her, shuddering against her, collapsing.  
_Yes. Fuck yes. That was fucking…yes…come on, Jen…words. You’re smart…oh…this is new…aftershocks? That’s good._

Matt rolled beside her, chest still heaving, pleased that Jen curled against him. He pressed his lips to her forehead and wrapped an arm around her waist., anchoring her in place. Her head lay comfortably in the hollow of his shoulder, her hand drawing lazy, slow patterns on his torso.

He reached down and pulled the cover up over their waists, closing his eyes. Jen chuckled softly against him. “What?” his breathing slowly returning to normal.

“Did you find me?” she grinned bashfully against his skin.

Matt snorted through his nose. “I might have.” The hand sitting at her waist began raking its fingertips against her hip.

“I think so, too,” she admitted, looking up at him. “I’m glad.” Her voice soft and warm in his ear.

It was Matt’s turn to laugh and he did his best to choke it away. Jen propped herself up on an elbow and eyed him skeptically. Her silent attention made him divulge, “Well. I did take you out to dinner.”

Overcome with an odd sort of glee, Jen cackled unexpectedly, adding to an endless cycle of laughter for a few minutes. “I’m not that easy. Wait. No…no…I can be, that was a lie,” she snickered, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

“I mean,” he began, but stopped when she jabbed him in the ribs. “Hey,” he whispered after she quieted. She hummed in response. “I’ve got you.”

She yawned and nodded, her arm snaking across his chest and her body edging closer. “I’ve got you, too. Go to sleep, Mr. Murdock.”

“Why,” he copied her yawn before resting his face in her hair. “Bossing me around already?”

“On the contrary,” she stretched like a cat against him. “You’re going to need it.”

 

Warm pressure dug into the aching muscles of her back. Dancing between oblivion and lucidity, Jen floated upward towards consciousness, groaning. She yawned unabashedly, curling on herself before stretching her legs backwards, hooking her feet behind strong calves.

“Was I asleep too long,” she prodded, tossing a look over her shoulder even though she knew that she wouldn’t be able to see his face in the dark. He snorted, she thought, and she reached back to rest her hand on his thigh.

Thumbs dug in small circles, palms stretching and manipulating muscle. “Your back was spasming…I didn’t want it to wake you.”

Pressure. Pull. Release. Inch lower. Repeat. Jen bit her lower lip. “Ever the gentleman,” she teased.

“I mean, you tell me to stop and I will,” he challenged.

Her head dipped forward, stretching the back of her neck. “Nope.” He chuckled at that. “Not in a million years.”  
As his thumb dug into the muscle around her shoulder, it proved to be particularly tender and she gripped his leg hard and hissed.

“Jen, if you want me to stop, tell me,” his voice calming.

She nodded, “I know. It’s okay.” Jen grimaced when his knuckles carefully dug into her flesh. An arm snaked down into the mattress and came up around her waist; the motion and action of it meant to be comforting did something else entirely to her.

Something animalistic woke; skin covered in gooseflesh and her heart pounding strong in her chest, mouth dry and an ache in her abdomen rattled her. Hunger, possession. To be held and judged and found worthy. By him.

_And he knows. His mouth is on my shoulder and his hand atop mine. Whispering things against my neck. Telling me that he’s missed me in the hours I’ve been asleep, telling me that he needs me. He might. He does. Because they’re things that I want to say to him but I’m afraid to; I’ll let my body tell him instead._

Jen rolled over and tangled her limbs in his, nudging his chin with the bridge of her nose. The beginnings of stubble scratched at her skin, but she didn’t mind.

“You’re trouble,” his voice rough and full of gavel.

Her hand trailed down to cup him. “You’re just noticing that now?” she asked, feigning surprise. “I thought the fights and my charming personality were enough of a warning.” Matt inhaled sharply and Jen grazed her teeth over his chin. “That’s your fault.”

“That’s cheating,” he groaned. She nipped at the pulse point in his throat, inhaling the measure of him deep into her lungs. “That, too.”

Jen smiled against his skin, pressure digging into her thigh. “Doesn’t feel like you’re too upset with me about it.”

“Hmm,” he hummed before pulling her tight against him. Matt loved the way she slid across the fabric and the sound from the friction of it. “Isn’t that against some ethical code you hold yourself to?” His hand kneaded at the small of her back causing her to arch into him and hiss.

“This isn’t business,” she breathed.

“Bet you say that to all the guys,” his tone dark.

Jen growled and tangled her hands in his hair and pulled hard enough to garner his attention, she could feel him twitch against her leg. “Don’t you ever,” she grated against him; he stopped breathing, “think for a fucking minute,” she rolled her hips, taking him into her, “that anyone else has been this close,” her hand tugged harder, “to who I am. Ever.”

Releasing her grip, her fingertips did their best to soothe his scalp, but she had already set their tone for this tryst. Matt’s hands captured both of hers and brought them above her head, pinning them in his left. She strained against his vice grip and managed to get her left hand free, wrapping her fingers around the nape of his neck.

Their coupling was raw and frantic and desperate. Jen feared that at any moment, she would wake up and Matt would be gone, that everything good that had happened to her in the past year was only a figment of her imagination.

_But this is real. I know. I can tell. He’s here with me and fuck, it’s amazing. It’s everything that I need. I need Matt. Whatever this is tonight, I fucking need it and so does he and it’s everything and something and anything and nothing and I’m being swallowed whole by it. I can breathe again._

Their hands threaded together gripping tightly as they moved against each other, fighting each other for something; clawing their way up from the pit that they both feared.

Matt’s fingers dug into her side rolling them in a fluid motion; the bed sheet caught around their bodies tightened. Jen fought back for control and rolled them inadvertently onto the floor with Matt crashing gracelessly onto his back. He pushed himself up, back against the side of the bed, and adjusted her legs about his waist as best he could through the sheet.

She continued to try and take control; determined, he wouldn’t let her. She would push and he would do the same back, a series of physical actions that were copied and mirrored back to her. Bite for bite, pull for pull, pain for pain, tenderness for tenderness. Until finally she was able to just be herself; the layers of defense she’d built up, the methodical patterns she used to figure out her sexual partners all but disappeared and the only thing left was the fire that burned.

And she burned. And he burned with her. And burned. Until they were a mess of limbs and bed sheet and sweat and emotion. The tidal wave of release crashing, cataclysmic against their very souls and pulling at every sinew, every fiber of their being. Cries and growls boomed against the exposed beams of the ceiling. Exhaustion settled over them, skin tinged pink and hot, flushed.

Murdock pushed up on his hands and pulled the pair of them into bed, head collapsing against her collarbone. A hand cradled the base of his skull and tenderly brushed its fingers through his hair, lulling him into sleep with the sound of thunder in her chest.

And still they burned.


	17. The Devil Pulls Me into the Dark

_Sunday_

“You heard me: rules,” her voice light. “Because we aren’t dating.”

Murdock rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his fist, the other hand resting on her backside. “Oh? Then what would you call all of this?”

“Dunno,” she shrugged, stuffing her hands under her pillow. “Good. But I dunno. I’m awful at dating. And I feel safe in assuming that you aren’t far behind in that regard, either.” He snorted in agreement. “So what if we don’t date?”

“Okay” he chuckled. “Point taken. So _not dating_ makes sense to have rules, then. What are your terms, Miss MacDougall?”

 “Terms? You’re making it sound so official, Mr. Murdock,” she laughed in his ear. “So, not dating…”

“Not dating,” he smiled.

“Number one, casual,” she nodded against the pillow, staring up at him. “I mean very casual. The less people know about it, the better. Call me superstitious.”

“I can work with that,” he smirked, smacking her behind. “Since we aren’t dating.”

“Number two, honesty. I mean, not that you can lie to me anyway, but, I won’t lie to you. Promise,” she stretched under the covers. “You could try, but as Dom already told you, I get very crafty when I mean to get even.”

“Number three,” Matt added. “Don’t hurt each other.”

“Now wait a minute,” she leaned up on her forearms. “That means I don’t have a grappling partner anymore.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he blinked slowly. “I mean…if – if one of us starts falling for someone else, we keep the other in the loop.”

“Ah,” she nodded. “I can work with that,” she copied his reply.

“Rule number four: you have to come see me twice a year, not dating or not,” he grinned. “God knows life is boring without Jennifer Elise MacDougall throwing wrenches into the mix.”

“Mainly involuntary, I assure you, Counselor,” she pouted.

“Counselor? I haven’t passed the bar or – or even started law school for that matter,” he pulled her closer to him.

“Pfft,” she rolled her eyes. “As if there are any doubts. You keep going to class like your supposed to or I’ll come back more than twice a year to kick your ass, Murdock.”

“Yes, ma’am. Rule five,” he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I get to collect for use of my supersonic bat hearing as I see fit.”

“That’s not mutually inclusive. And you offered!” she defended. “That’s not fair.”

“Fair? What’s not fair?” he poked into her side, eliciting a yelp. “You used the heightened auditory senses of a blind man to try and get an advantage in the business world! The nerve and audacity of some people.”

“You asshole,” she grumbled, trying to roll away from him. “You offered as a means for paying for your dinner!”

He grabbed her ankle and pulled her back towards him, swiftly wrapping his arms around her. “And I paid for dinner as well.”

She huffed, “Since we’re not dating, it doesn’t matter.”

“Eh, I don’t know about that,” he grinned.

“You know, if you were slightly less charming and less important in my life, I would have smacked you by now.”

“I’m very aware,” he charmed. “I’d like to bring Rule Five to the table right now.”

She frowned and crossed herself realizing she wouldn’t be going anywhere. “Now? How could I possibly owe you anything right now?”

“Well,” he captured her lips in another kiss. “That’s a start.”

She bit her bottom lip and shook her head. “You think I’m trouble? Whew, Mr. Murdock, you should take an _introspective_ look at yourself,” she teased. “You’re just as much trouble as I am.”  
His stomach growled and she chuckled, “I’ll go make breakfast, but that does mean I have to get out of this bed.”

“Shame,” he smirked, kneading her backside.

“Besides,” she shoved him back and slid out of bed, “you look tired. Did you get much sleep? What kept you awake all night?”

“What? It’s a _who_ ,” he laughed. “You wore me out.”

“Me?” she did her best to sound innocent as she made her way toward the kitchen. She picked up his shirt off the floor and slid her arms through the sleeves, buttoning it up to her sternum and rolling the sleeves to her elbows.  
“It’s all a blur, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Are you already breaking Rule Two?”

“Picking on you doesn’t count as breaking that rule,” she justified as the coffee pot began to brew. “Now, if you’re done trying to cross-examine me: bacon or no?”

“That’s not even a question, yes bacon!” Matt slid on his shorts and stood to stretch. He could feel bruises beginning to form at his neck and shoulder that would soon resemble bite marks, and the rest of him was pleasantly achy.

The sizzle of butter hissed loudly and he inhaled deeply. Already knowing what she was making, Matt asked, “So what kitchen prowess are you dazzling me with this morning?”

“French toast,” she eyed him wolfishly as he came into the kitchen clad in only a pair of shorts.

“What can I help you with,” his voice kind as he opened the fridge and pulled out the carton of milk she’d left in the door.

“You seem to be doing just fine on your own, hot shot,” she replied, flipping the grilled bread in the pan. “I don’t need to tell you what needs done or where stuff is.”

He moved deftly around the kitchen, getting out plates, glasses, and utensils and arranging them on the island for their breakfast. As she was plating their meal, he moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.  
“This isn’t what you left the bedroom wearing.”  
_Matt, buddy, I know this is a bit of a turn on for you, her wearing your shirt and all…but down boy. Get some breakfast without having sex in the kitchen if you can help it. Jesus._

“Very astute,” she teased. “I wasn’t wearing it. You’re right. Some jerk left it on the floor. I’m wearing it for the time being. I could, you know, argue the same point about you.”

Jen pulled back to get a look at him and offered him a bite of breakfast. “ ‘ut,” he mumbled with his mouthful, “y-re ‘rett’r dan I am.”

“Prettier? Debatable,” she shook her head. She turned his face toward the light and grimaced. “He really got you good, Matt. Rule Six: don’t do the dumb if you can help it.”

“Fair,” he chuckled with a swallow. “You know, if the whole business thing falls through, you could open up a restaurant.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“How are you feeling,” he let Jen guide him to his plate and leaned back against the counter.

“I’m good,” she replied, hopping up onto the counter beside him with her breakfast.

Matt choked on his breakfast and smirked, “I’m not asking about last night and you know it. Seriously, how do you feel?”

She pondered for a moment, eyes glancing over his figure beside her. “Better than expected. I can’t tell if it’s because he’s going to jail, I’m not actually that bad off, if it’s from you digging at my back, or a combination of the three. But I think I’m okay, for now. Haven’t looked in the mirror lately.”

He nodded, scarfing down his food. “Probably should, see how the bruising is starting to come in and how bad it is.”

“It doesn’t matter much, to be fair,” she replied. “I don’t have to work for a week. Ugh…but I _do_ need to call Mr. Duquesne. I gave him my word that I would.”

“Call him,” Matt shrugged. “Come on. You made a deal with an investor and impressed the bank president. Honestly, your boss made Gibson sound like a wash.”

“I dunno,” she put their plates in the sink and poured coffee. “I’ll find out though.”

She sipped her coffee and dialed her boss’ number while Matt began cleaning up from breakfast.

_“Jennifer! How are you feeling?”_

“I’m okay, Mr. Duquesne, I promise. My pride may be sore for a few days, but I came out of the gala fairly unscathed,” she joked. “Gibson didn’t go well.”

_“Of course he didn’t. The man’s an asshole. He tries to find ways to get under everyone’s skin. I know I kind of threw you to the wolves as far as he’s concerned, but I wanted to know if you could hold your own.”_

“Matt was my backup, so to speak, and kept me from making a fool of myself,” she shoved him playfully as he walked past. “But, I’m afraid that I botched any inside information that I could have got from him. I let him get under my skin and he didn’t divulge any information.”

_“I didn’t think he would, to be honest. But, you got him to talk to you; that’s the crowning achievement in that regard. He’s got a nose for business, in his own way. They only way you could have botched anything was if you somehow insulted him and his mother, but I’m pretty sure you have a level-enough head for that.”_

“Katzinger was a peach, though. He told me to tell you that he’s impressed.”

_“I’d expect nothing less. Then with DuPont’s phone call, it sounds like you had a pretty eventful evening.”_

Jen smirked, “Fairly. We left the part early. No offense, sir, but that food was pretty awful.”

_“Oh goodness, that’s a shame. Usually that gala is one of the better events in the year for me. Hmm. And young Mr. Murdock, he kept you in check?”_

She nodded and wrapped a leg around his waist when he tried to walk past. “Seems to be something he’s good at in his own way. I guess I’ll keep him around in the friendship circle for a while.”

_“You do what’s best for you, Jennifer. Ah, that reminds me: the project manager for the loft called, said things have been delayed due to some backorder not coming in on time. Looks like you might be there until after the Fourth. Is that doable for you?”_

Matt’s face lit up, but Jen did her best to act nonchalant. “I will have to make some phone calls, but that should be manageable. I’m sure that both Matthew and Foggy can tolerate me for a little while longer.”

_“Wonderful. Now remember, you are to take this week off. The earliest you can start clocking in hours will be Saturday. Do you understand me?”_

A quick sigh escaped her lips and she nodded into the phone. “Yes, Mr. Duquesne. I understand. But, I will let you know that _if_ I happen to see some property and what not that _might_ be good for the company, I’m going to take a picture of it and send it to you whilst I’m out galivanting around the city. What you would choose to do with that information after the fact would be up to you.”

_“You’re hopeless. Get some rest, Jennifer, and take the time to heal. I’m sure if you contact your former Professor Grosso, he will have some things for you to peruse through. Enjoy your vacation.”_

She put the phone down on the counter and crossed her arms, “I’m sure you heard quite a bit of that at the end, considering.”

“A bit,” he shrugged, pulling her toward the edge of the counter. “Do you have an extended stay coming up in your future?” His thumbs grazed her skin in languorous circles on her thighs.

“Looks that way. So sorry to intrude on any plans you had for the summer,” she joked, raking her nails down his torso.  
Matt reached for his watch to check the time, but remembered he had taken it off sometime last night. “It’s ten thirty-ish,” she replied.

“What are your plans for the day?”

“Well, I have to go to the store at some point and get things for dinner. The Bonners will be here around three thirty for dinner, knowing Dom. He’s overly punctual. Do you or Foggy want to be around for dinner?”

“Call him and ask, I’m okay with whatever,” he kissed her jaw. “Does this mean I get to see you tonight?”

“What happened to Rule One?” she groaned.

“I can keep it together through a dinner, Jen,” he challenged. “Can you?”

“Ooh,” she smirked. “I think I’ll like this game. Alright. Call Foggy, tell him that I’m making lasagna. If he wants fed, then he can come over. But we’re going out afterwards.”

“Are we?” his brows shot up.

Her fingers kneaded into his lower back, “I want to go out, and I doubt that you two would want me to be all by myself considering the trouble I can get in to _and_ I’m buying. How does Josie’s sound?” She handed him her phone as it was ringing loudly on speaker.

“ _Mac! What’s up? How was the gala? Was Murdock pissy all night?”_

“I was not pissy,” Matt replied. “I was irritated at myself. And the gala went fine.”

Foggy paused, _“Why the hell are you calling me on Mac’s phone? Is she alright?”_

“She’s fine,” he admitted with a wink. “A bit sore, but that’s to be expected.” Jen raked her nails down his back in retaliation. “So,” he sucked in air quickly, “Jen has me calling because she has a proposition for the rest of the day if you’re interested.”

_“Mischief that she’s starting? I dunno. If it involves fighting, I’m a lover, not a fighter, buddy.”_

“Foggy,” Jen interjected, “I’m making lasagna for the Bonners around three thirty-ish if you want an early dinner. And I want to go out to Josie’s later. You game? I’m buying.”

_“When you put it that way, hell yeah I’m interested. Matt, you should try opening with that next time.”_

“Yeah, Matt,” she teased. “Duh. Fog, see you a little before then, yeah?”

_“You got it. I’ll bring some sides over since God knows Murdock’s not contributing.”_

Matt pouted, “I am too contributing. I just haven’t figured out how yet.”

“See you later, Fog!” she chirped and hung up.

“You know,” he whispered into her ear, nudging her face with his, “that’s a hell of a way to ask me out tonight.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” His stubble grated across her cheek and she could nearly taste the coffee on his tongue as her mouth kissed the corner of his. “I don’t hear you complaining.”

“Hmpf,” he smiled. “Good. We have time.”

“Time?”

Matt lifted her off the counter and began carrying her across the room. “We’re going back to bed, then you can do whatever it is that you’re doing later.”

“You’ve forgotten already. Tsk, tsk.”

“It’s not that I’ve forgotten, it’s that it doesn’t matter. I’m _contributing_.”

“If I can’t stand or walk straight because my legs will not work,” she retorted cheekily, “then you’re idea of contributing is a bit moot, don’t you think?”

“Nonsense. I’m going to need my shirt back if I’m going to leave and change later. It’s only logical that I help you take it off beforehand.”

 

Jen sat with JJ on her lap, idly humming to her and bouncing her on her knee. Everyone was sitting in the living room talking after dinner, giving Jen plenty of time to spend with her goddaughter.

“Cincinattii?” Foggy scoffed. “Nah, they’re trash this season. The aren’t going to make it far even if they have a winning season.”

Dom bristled, “Have you even looked at the Mets? They’re garbage! I could play as a right-fielder and still pitch better!”

“Or,” Jen chortled, making faces at the baby, “We can all agree that baseball’s lame.”

“AGREED!” Melissa shouted. “Amen and God bless, can we please, _please_ , stop talking about baseball?”

“And what would you rather talk about, huh?” Foggy threw his hands up in the air. “We already talked about the gala, grad school, peekaboo…”

“Jen likes hockey,” Matt divulged with a devilish grin.

Dom rolled his eyes and Foggy moved to clutch his heart. “Hockey? _Hockey!_ How – how could…Mac, I don’t know if we can be friends if you don’t like baseball.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” she teased. “Guess I’ll have to collect payment for all the food that I’ve made for you in the past week. Damn.”

Matt and Melissa laughed as Foggy’s mouth gaped in protest. “Now, don’t be too hasty there, my good lady. I think…it’s…uh, great…that you like hockey.”

“Thank you; we are all entitled to our own opinions, even if baseball sucks,” she stuck her tongue out.  
She turned towards Melissa with glint in her eye, “How was your date last night?”

“It was wonderful,” Melissa sighed, a tinge of red creeping into her cheeks. “That restaurant was amazing and the old movie theater? Spot on. Even he enjoyed himself.” A prolonged wink in Dom’s direction cause him to clear his throat and shift on the couch.

Dom leaned forward to stretch, side-eying Jen, “In an effort to change the subject, since the incident with dipshit, how long are you staying out here? You remember you’ve got jobs lined up at the end of July, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I remember. At least I’ll have a killer tan by the end of the summer.”

“A tan?” Foggy leaned toward her. “What are _you_ going to be doing? Please. Don’t tell me that you’ve joined a nudist colony for hot people. Because, that’s just throwing salt in the wound.”

“Is this the music thing?” Matt asked, leaning back into the couch and turning his head in her direction.  
_Imagine it: her outside, sun baking into her skin…sweat…movement…exertion…calm down. Jesus._

“Yep,” she nodded, booping JJ on the nose to elicit laughter. “And sorry, Fog, not quite a nudist colony…but at times it feels close. No, it’s… uh…something kind of on the lame side that I enjoy.”

“Like what? Gardening and music for plants?”

“Band camp.”

Foggy’s mind shorted and after the briefest of moments, he grinned. “Band camp? You made fun of me for Punjabi and you are working a BAND CAMP!?”

“Five of them, actually,” she corrected without looking up at him. “As the low brass technician and winds instructors for a few high schools. End of my contracts lines up nicely with going to Chicago.”

Dom shrugged and took JJ from Jen to change her. “It’s good money from what she says, and she’s getting paid to tell high school students that they suck and disappoint her and that they need to work hard or run laps.” Jen shot him a reproachful glare. “At least that’s what I’ve got out of her telling me about the job.”

“It’s fun,” Melissa agreed. “We had a camp instructor come from a college every year to work with us. That’s how we got so good in a week.”

“Yeah,” Jen’s tone smug, “too bad you couldn’t ever beat us at States. We went to rival high schools. Spanked them every year at competition.”  
“Anyway, it’s easy cash. Between the five schools and four weeks of camp…I’m looking to make three grand or so.”

“Three grand in a month? For playing the bassoon!?”

“I play the tuba, Fog; keep up,” she teased. “And I’m damn good at it, too. The last three bands that I worked with all made it to States.”

“Wow,” Matt nodded in appreciation. “I’m impressed.”

“Keeps me in shape for the fall, too,” she added. “If I make the kids run, I’m running with them. If they are doing pushups or anything else, I do it with them. My thing is, I won’t dish anything out that I can’t physically do. And, if they catch me making mistakes in their rehearsals, they get to make me do laps and such.”

“That’s – that’s pretty smart, I’m not going to lie,” Foggy beamed. “So the kids love you, is what I’m hearing.”

“Pretty much,” Jen stood up and began clearing dishes from the coffee table.

Melissa nodded and got up to help, “As much as I hate to say it, she’s working a camp with my little sister again. She plays trombone and loves Mac. Oh! They’re getting you a matching shirt this year, just as a head’s up.”

Jen laughed, “I’m sure they are. Now, if it’s appropriate to wear to school remains to be seen. The last t-shirt those kids gave me said “ _Low Brass; Blow Me”_ on it.”

Raucous laughter began to fill the loft. “That is gold,” Foggy wiped a tear from his eye, face red.

Jen snorted in agreement, stowing the dishes in the dishwasher. “I thought it was great. Their director didn’t think so.”

Melissa clutched at her side. “That’s right! I remember Laura coming home, pissed, that the director yelled at them all, threatened to kick them out.”

“Nah,” Jen brushed it off. “He talks big, but there’s no way he would have kicked that low brass line out after I’d had them for a week. No way. Plus, they’re in high school. They’re going to make jokes like that.”

“God knows you did,” Dom interjected, reappearing with his daughter. “Your mind was and is as close to the gutter as possible.”

“Close? My mind is in the gutter. I choose to only let good snippets out as they are appropriate. It’s called growing up,” she stuck her tongue out at him.

“Yeah, yeah; just remember that you have obligations in the whirlwind that’s your life right now. I’d hate for you to get blacklisted because you decided to be a putz. Just keep that in mind.”

“Yes, sir,” she saluted him and took JJ while he and Melissa got their jackets on. “JJ, you give your daddy tons of trouble until I get back. That’s your job! Yes it is,” she kissed her forehead. “That’s my girl.”  
“You need anything before you head back? Do you want to take some food with you?”

“Nah, we’ll be good. We’re spending the night in Pittsburgh before we drive the last leg home.”

“That’s like, six hours…you going to be okay?”

“He’ll be good,” Melissa patted his shoulder. “If he gets tired I’ll take over. Want us to call or text when we get there?”

“Yeah,” Jen hugged them both. “Travel as safe as you can.”

“Will do. Boys, take care of her. You’re a part of the family now; that means I get to beat you if anything happens to her,” Dom warned with mirth in his tone.

“Darn,” Foggy snapped his fingers in faux-disappointment. “I was going to shove her into the Hudson later.”

“Good luck,” she quirked up a brow. “I dare you.”

Matt and Foggy shook Dom’s hand and hugged Melissa as they exited, Jen kissing all three of them on the cheek. “I’ll be home in July. I’ll keep you in the loop.”

“Be good, beastie,” Dom threw over his shoulder as the door closed behind him.

“So, we’re in the family?” Foggy elbowed her.

“You did get to meet Malcolm, and kept me from making a very stupid decision at the gym,” she replied, hands on her waist. “It was only a matter of time, if you really think about it. You both were doomed to be in my life for a while.”

“This calls for a celebration. What say we go out?” Foggy spun around.

“Now?” Jen queried. “It’s almost five.”

“Good. By the time we leave, get down there after fighting traffic, it’ll be much later and a perfect time for drinking. Come on, Mac. Let’s go!”

“You’re the one that wanted to go out,” Matt reminded her. “Look, you got his hopes up. Just pray he doesn’t start giving you puppy eyes or dancing.”

“I’m an amazing dancer,” Foggy quipped, shoving Matt in the shoulder.

“Yeah, amazingly bad at dancing. You should hear some of the stories I’ve heard from college.”

“Alright, you two. Let’s go,” she grabbed her wallet and keys. “I swear, you both act like children sometimes.”

 

Josie’s had been busy most of the night, a steady stream of patrons coming in and out of its front doors for their own various reasons. Three twenty-somethings sat at a table along the wall, laughing at each other. It was well after eleven and the three had been drinking most of the night.

“You suck at pool,” Jen pointed at Matt, but leaned more in Foggy’s direction. “Both of you do. You could have at least tried to shoot a combo to score _some points_.”

Matt lifted his shoulders, palms up, “What do you want me to do? Use – use echolocation like a dolphin to figure out where all the balls are?”

Foggy and Jen collided shoulders, a mixture of laughing and wheezing had filled the atmosphere around their table. Foggy croaked, “He said _balls_.”

Jen’s voice squeaked as her hands made arcing motions across the table. “Matt’s a _DOLPHIN!”_

Matt threw his head back and laughed while his two friends made horrible noises he assumed were supposed to represent a dolphin. “I am… _NOT_ …a dolphin.”

To his chagrin, they roared with another wave of laughter as a coughing fit wracked Jen’s torso.

“Holy Jesus,” she cried, wiping her face on the back of her arm. “That’s good stuff right there. Oh…my back…my ribs…I’m dying…oh, Christ…I need to stop …FOGGY, STOP MAKING ME LAUGH, DAMN IT!” she shoved him hard after she saw him making fish faces at her.  
“That’s it. I need to go to the bathroom. You two are the worst,” she commented and hopped off her stool to find her way toward the back of the bar.

Foggy watched her as she went and shook his head. “So, you’ve been spending a lot of time at the loft and you seem to be in a better mood.”

“What – what are you getting at, Fog? You,” he pointed at the empty chair thinking it was where his best friend was sitting, “were the one that s-said that she needed watch-watching over.”

“Are you two dating?”

“We are _not_ dating,” he replied.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Wow, okay. So you two figured it out?”

“Yep,” he swayed a little in his seat. “Talked it out, figured it out. Not dating.”

“Huh,” his tone showing surprise and disappointment. “I pegged you two to be an item. I think she’d be good for you.”

“She is,” Matt allowed. “In the capacity that we are, she is.”  
_Well, that’s not technically a lie._

“We should probably go soon, anyway. Lots of dudes in here keep checking her out, and not in the good way. Why did she have to wear those shorts?”

“What shorts?”

Foggy scoffed through his nose, “Sorry, buddy, I forgot for a second. But they are _short_ shorts and her t-shirt doesn’t go all the way to the waist and her tennis shoes…she looks cute. Don’t get me wrong, I’m saying that in a very platonic sort of way. But if I think she’s cute, then that means the rest of the dudes in this place see a slab of meat.”

“Did she end up putting any makeup on,” Matt asked. He already knew the answer, he couldn’t smell it and it wasn’t skewing any heat radiating off of her face. _She’s not._

“No, maybe she was hoping no one would mess with her if she didn’t.”

“Boys,” she announced as she slung an arm across each of their shoulders, “I think it’s time we go home. Foggy, as promised,” she held up a folded piece of paper between two fingers.

“No!” he shouted.

“Cute girl in the yellow over by the pool table. You, sir, now have her number. If you go over and don’t stumble all over yourself, you might get lucky.”

“Thank you, fairy godmother and wingman of the year,” he opened the piece of paper and beamed.

“Also, I made you sound a bit more poetic when I told her that you heard her voice cut through the throng of people and it made you happy…so I would definitely let your words help you out on that one.”  
“And,” Jen pressed a paper into Matt’s hand, “one for you, too.”

“Seriously?”

“Jen,” Foggy breathed, “you are a goddess among women.”

“I know. Matt, yours is in braille. I punched it with a pen, told the girl you were blind but you felt her as soon as you walked into the room.”

Matt’s fingers traced over the rough-punched numbers and smirked. _Oh, Jen. That’s cheating._

“She’s already gone, but told me to tell you to call her if you wanted to meet up,” she elbowed him gently. “So, Foggy, let’s go introduce you to Leah. Come on.”

Jen dragged Nelson by his elbow and introduced him to a gorgeous brunette he’s spied an hour earlier. She was an excellent wingman. Gave them a nice introduction, explained that he’d thought she was radiant the moment he set eyes on her, and then left them alone to talk about the main thing that they had in common: The Mets.

“I’ll make sure Ray Charles gets home,” she assured Foggy with a grin and took off.

“Ray Charles?” Matt asked.

“Heard that, did you,” she offered him her arm. “Impressive, even over all this noise.”

“I can almost always find you in a crowd,” he offered. “Now about this number…” _Of yours…_

“Call it,” she shrugged as they stepped foot onto the pavement and began walking. “What’s the worst that could happen?”  
Matt took his phone out and dialed the number as it appeared on the paper, chuckling. Jen’s phone began ringing in her back pocket. “Huh, weird.”  
“Hello?”

“Yes, my name’s Matt; a good friend of mine gave me this number and told me to call you.”

Jen grinned and kept walking, “Ah. Yes. She was very persuasive. Said that you are quite the charmer, absolutely brilliant, and not bad in bed.”

“Is that all she said?”

“She said lots of things,” her voice husky. “Mainly good things, I assure you.”

Matt bit his bottom lip and sighed. “You know, this is rather torturous of you.”

“I think it’s a ball,” she teased, bouncing her hip into him and shoving him aimlessly into an alley. “Where’s your sense of adventure, Mr. Murdock? Your friend tells me that you tend to live a little dangerously.”

“Does she, now?” his voice rumbling from the shadows. Jen squinted down the alley to see him, but it was dark and the streetlight only covered so much ground. “And did she tell you if she trusts me?”

Jen switched off her phone and pocketed it, intent on the voice coming from the darkness and stood in the middle of the lamp’s golden glow. “She did.”

“Did she indicate how much she trusts me?” his voice dark, sitting low in his chest.

Her mouth had gone dry, her fingertips tingled, and she was biting her lip again. _God damn you, Matt._ “With her life.”

“Really?”

“Without hesitation,” her back straightened and she felt herself leaning forward, a hand running through her hair.

His expectant hand appeared from the shadow into the edge of the light, “Then give me your hand.”

_You did say without hesitation._ Light bounced off his hand and refracted against his glasses, giving his eyes an alluring, if not ominous, feeling in her gut. A hand lifted from her side and placed itself in his outstretched palm without her having given it much thought.

Matt pulled her into the darkness, her body colliding against his and he chuckled. “Aren’t you afraid of the dark and the monsters there?”

“No,” she breathed against his neck.

“Why?”

“I live in it,” she whispered. “And you’re with me.” She could feel the corner of his mouth turn upward against her temple. “The monsters are afraid of me,” she continued, hands clawing at his shirt.  
“Does that scare you? Does that make you afraid?”

“No,” Matt replied. “I’ll never be afraid of you. Never.”

“Matt,” she sighed, fingers already digging at his waistband; becoming giddy when he began fumbling at the clasp of her shorts.

The rough brick scraped against the back of her arms and backside, but her senses we overwhelmed with the smell of him: his soap, his aftershave, the detergent he used and the taste of beer on his lips rendering her body tingling and pleasantly numb. Hearts raced at the prospect of getting caught in the alley, blood booming loudly in their ears.  
When he came to her, she groaned at the now familiar feeling of him being this close to her. Toes curled in her shoes while he adjusted her weight against his hips and the wall of the building.

“I won’t take long,” she gasped, biting into her lip to keep quiet from the ears of people walking by.

“Good,” he moved against her. “Me either,” he chuckled as a wolf might when cornering prey.

She tried to move against him, to not only move away from him but simultaneously be as close as possible to him as if they were one being. Two halves of the same being coming back together again. It was frantic, cataclysmic. Her breath clung to the skin of his neck, erratic between gasps, and his skin tasted of salt and beer. It wouldn’t be long now. He was listening to her. He knew. And she was listening to him in the dark. Whatever else, they could hear each other, see each other; know each other in the dark.

Muffled and strangled cries into each other’s shoulders were barely audible to the people that walked by, basked in the golden glow of the street light. No one knew of the monster and its savior in the darkness.


	18. The Devil Prowls like a Roaring Lion

_Monday_

Jingling of keys and a light heartbeat pulled Matt out of slumber, causing him to bolt upright in bed. Jen stretched lazily beside him and grumbled something under her breath that he thought was supposed to be consoling. Memories from last night raced in his mind, heavy steps moving up the stairs.  
_Where did she kick off her shoes…where did her clothes go…wait, no…shit…okay, they’re all in here. We’re good. That’s all I’d need after what we talked about last night… Alright. How do I want to play this?_

Jen cracked an eye open and took stock of Matt’s expression. “What?” her voice rough with sleep.

“Foggy,” he replied, cocking an ear in the direction of his bedroom door and slipping on a pair of shorts. “He’s here.”

“Shit,” she hissed, pushing herself up on her forearms. “Shit, shit; okay.” Sitting up, she looked around the room and saw everything she’d worn last night strewn on his bedroom floor. “Why did we come back here instead of going to my place?”

“Because it was closer,” Matt’s lip curled into a devilish smirk. “Didn’t think you wanted too many alleyway escapades.”

She smacked him hard on the arm. “This isn’t funny, Matt. Foggy will have every reason to be pissed if he figures out that I’m here and _I’m_ the one that you brought home. Damn it. And that’s after you told him we weren’t dating.”

“We’re not,” he replied flatly, head turned in her direction. “Remember?”

“Rule one, dipshit,” she hissed. “If above anything else, that immediately breaks one of the rules.”

Matt nodded and ran a hand through his hair, “Okay. I’ll figure it out as I go.”

“That’s a comfort,” she rolled her eyes, hiding her face in her hands. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“Give me some credit:  I do plan on being an attorney.”

Jen looked up when she heard Foggy’s keys at the front door. “Better think quick, Murdock,” she whispered, feeling her heart drop into her stomach.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“My wallet is next to your keys.”

“Damn it, Jen.”

“Matt, buddy,” Foggy called out. “You are not going to believe the kind of night I had.”

Matt shoved Jen back into the bed and threw the blanket around her and moved to the door, quietly opening it and sneaking out of it. “Hey, Foggy. Uh…could you …uh…keep it down?”

“Did you get lucky again?” Foggy grinned.

 _“That’s an understatement,”_ Jen whispered to herself, nearly causing Matt to laugh.

“Yeah…she – she’s still in bed…”

“You dog. I don’t understand it. How do women always fall over themselves for you?”

_“Yeah, Matt. How does that work? It’s a mystery.”_

Matt laughed nervously and rubbed his hands together. “They don’t fall over to get to me, Foggy. That’s not what happens.”

“You’re right,” he snapped his fingers. “They line up for a chance to have Matt Murdock and I have to work my ass off to get a date and such. My life, in comparison, sucks.” His best friend shrugged and turned to make coffee. “Seriously, Matt…is it the blind thing? I need to get in on that gig.”

“It’s not the blind thing,” Matt groaned. “Must be my face. How was your night?”

“Great, actually. Leah is super into baseball and we talked most of the night. Walked her back to her place and we ended up crashing on the couch. She asked that I meet her for coffee Wednesday,” he turned and did a double take near the door. “Hey…that’s – that’s Mac’s wallet.”

“Really?” Matt peeked from behind the fridge. “Must have left it here last night.”

_“That was real convincing. Christ.”_

Matt cleared his throat, “Mac dropped me off and made sure that I was good on the couch. She must have dropped her wallet off on the way in out of habit. I’ll call her later, make sure she knows we have it.”

“Huh,” Foggy nodded. “You were pretty gone last night.”

Matt chuckled, “Yeah, enough.” The coffee pot began to fill and the scent reached Jen’s nostrils. Her stomach growled angrily. Matt smiled to himself and reached up for a box of cereal. “She was a champ the whole way back.”

 _“Another understatement,”_ she chuckled and quickly covered her mouth to stifle her laughter.

Foggy turned his head towards Matt’s door when he heard an odd, muffled sound. “Well, Murdock; I’ll give you another hour. I’ll call Mac and let her know that her wallet’s here. She’s probably freaking out about it.”

“I’m sure that she is. I can call her if you want since I’m the reason it’s here in the first place.”

“Doesn’t that encroach on your time with…I didn’t ask. What’s her name?”

“Tajana,” Matt replied, sipping coffee. “I mean, she’s going to leave when she’s ready; I’ll call her later and ask if she wants to go out later this week…but yeah – yeah man; I’ll call Jen. She was taking care of me, least I can do is let her know her stuff’s here.”

“Alright. But I’m coming back in an hour, Murdock. I want to get some laundry done. Unless you want your girl to see what she’s really missing by observing this magnificent physique, do your thing.”

“Got it.”

“Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t,” Foggy teased, grabbing a thermos of coffee and heading back out the door. “I’m going to go shopping. Need anything?”

“Nah, I’m – I’m good, man, thanks.”

As quickly as his best friend had entered their apartment, he had disappeared. Matt carried the box of cereal under his arm and a mug in each hand and used his knee to push the door open. Jen was standing beside the doorway, and grabbed the coffee out of his hand and placed it atop his dresser, sipping hers without breaking eye contact.  
“See? Not a problem.” _Your commentary almost made me lose it, though._ “I don’t know why you were so worried.”

“Worried? You are one of the worst liars I know,” she crossed her arms, coffee set aside. “Either you’re that bad or I’m that good at detecting your bullshit.”

The box of cereal secure on his dresser, Matt crowded Jen’s frame as she leaned back against the wall. “Could be a combination of both,” he admitted with a bob of his head, hands bushing over the fabric that hung off her shoulders. “This is mine,” he observed.

“It was what was in arm’s reach,” she shrugged. “If Foggy was going to see anything, I’d rather be somewhat clothed, thanks.” His hand trailed down her arm and side to rest at her hip. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Closing the space between them, Matt blinked lazily while his hand trailed at the hem of his shirt. “I’d like it back. And what’s this? No bottoms?”

“You can have it back when I’m done with it,” she asserted, a note of challenge in her voice. “Or you’ll have to take it from me.”

Matt’s hands gripped at the back of her thighs and pulled her up to his waist. “Oh? Really? And what about the rest of the clothing I took off of you yesterday?”

“It’s a new day,” she ran her hands through his hair, her bare behind now pressed against the door; legs wrapped tightly around him. “I’m more apt to put up a fight now.”

“Wonderful. We have just under an hour.”  Teeth grazed against his jaw, a guttural groan reverberating his chest.

“Is that a promise,” she whispered against his skin.

“You’ll have my full and _undivided_ attention for the entire time, I can assure you. By the way,” he licked her collarbone, “your wallet’s next to my keys.”

 

“Oh, awesome. I wanted to ask her how her night went last night after she dumped your ass off,” Foggy teased. “It’s got to be so tedious taking care of you.”

Matt snorted, “Are you talking from experience?”

“You’re kind of like a baby that can talk.”

“Ow,” Matt threw a pillow at his best friend. “I’m going to tell her you’re picking on me and then you can deal with her wrath for once.”

“She loves me, hard to deny all of this,” he gestured to himself, “but she tries.”  
“Do you know when she’s showing up?”

“Dunno,” Matt shrugged, fingers glancing off the page before him. “She said she’d be over at lunch and that it was your turn to cook.”

“Mac’s going to be impressed with my culinary prowess.”

He sniffed the air and smiled. “Grilled chicken salads?”

“You know, I’ve known you for how long and I think it’s creepy; how good your nose is. It’s not even fair. Do you know what I would have done with that kind of nose? Made money off of it. I told you my mom wanted me to be a butcher.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Murdock brushed him off. Thunder rumbled in the distance and Matt inhaled. _No…I can’t smell the rain…so that means…she’s here…_  
Matt Stood and began busying himself with plates and silverware when a polite knock rapped on the door. Hand on the handle, he could smell her soap creeping under the door and nearly taste the coffee on her tongue and lips.  
“Hello?”

“You know who it is,” she said quietly, knowing he could hear. “I’ll be good. Come on. You know you want to. Let me in.” When the door opened, she smiled and jumped into the apartment, heralding her arrival. “Hello there, boys!”

“Mac!” Foggy exclaimed, matching her enthusiasm. “Glad to see you! How’d your night go?”

She shut the door and faked a punch to Matt’s stomach. “It was a ball. I brought him back and dumped him on the couch, reminded him of the phone number in his wallet, and promptly got into bed.”  
_I’m not wrong. We started on the couch. And then the floor. And then he teased me because I punched my own number in braille on the paper…and then I got into bed. His, to be specific._

“Thank for picking up the tab last night,” Matt nudged past her to get to the counter. “You didn’t have to.”

“I offered,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand. “And I make more money than you at the moment, anyway. You can pick up a tab like that once you two are working and are official lawyers.”

“Deal,” Foggy grinned. “Lunch is served. Oh, and Mac?” She quirked a brow in his direction and waited. “Your wallet’s near the door.”

 

_Friday_

“See, this is what you’ve been missing while hanging out with Murdock all of this time,” Foggy groaned, pulling another book off the library shelf. “The amazing and tantalizing life of a law student trying to get a leg up on the reading for next year.”

Jen chuckled, checked the call number along a spine that looked promising and continued her perusal. “There are worse things, Fog. I’m looking forward to getting back to work, soon. Not that I haven’t enjoyed the extra time hanging out with you,” she defended, her mouth twitching in thought. “I just like doing stuff and being useful and helpful.”

“I one-hundred-percent understand,” his words kind. “Shouldn’t you be out having fun and doing summer break things anyway?”

“Pfft,” she snorted. “Not this summer. Maybe in a year or two I’ll take a vacation. Like a real one. But as far as I’m concerned, coming to see you two boneheads every so often has taken priority.” Jen found one of the books he needed and tucked it under her arm. “Besides, vacations? Those are for squares. Everyone knows that whatever kind of vacay this is…it’s the way to go.”

“What a weirdo. Hey did you grab that book on precedents?”

“Aye, aye, Skipper,” she saluted, showing off the book in hand. “Are you honestly going to do all of this reading this summer?”

“I’m going to try. Matt’s already done with most of it.”

“Dude’s a machine. Jesus.”

“Change of subject. Non-school related things: what have you been up to all week?”

“I went to the Guggenheim and the Metropolitan Museum Tuesday and made a day of it. Tried to go see the headliner at the Palace, but I was able to snag a ticket to see _West Side Story_ instead. I went to a lot of hole-in-the-wall places before I went to the show that night. Asked people where their favorite spots in the city were and just went. It was kind of cool. Then today, I went and worked out, ran a bit, showered and came to hang out with you. I bought one of those New York Pass things.”

“You’ve been busy,” he smirked. “Are you bored?”

“God yes,” she sighed. “I’m calling Duquesne after lunch and asking if I can do _something_. The workers have only been at the loft for a couple of hours this week and supposedly, the last shipment of stuff is coming in on the seventh. Looks like I’m definitely here for The Fourth.”

“Let’s pretend that your boss isn’t going to let you work yet until the full week has passed,” Foggy chided. “Any plans this weekend?”

“I read that there’s a Jewish Festival on Sixth Avenue between Forty-eighth and Forty-ninth, but other than that, I’d probably just do more of what I’ve been doing and take in as much of the city as possible.”  
“Ah, here we are: the last book you needed. Thank God.”

“What are you thanking Him for? I still have to read it all.”

“That’s your fault for choice of major and vocation, my friend,” she patted him on the back sympathetically. “Just like it’s my fault that I’m going to be occasionally bored by what I do. Just the nature of the beast.”

“I guess. Are you always this much of a task master? Is that how you two have been spending your time? No wonder he’s so far ahead in his reading.”

“You’re not entirely wrong,” she frowned, plopping books on the counter. “You guys can go back to doing nothing when I’m not around, promise. As long as I’m here, I can at least make sure you guys did some work and feel better knowing you guys are kind of studying.” He nodded and gave a weary side eye. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“I think I’ve known you long enough to know that the face you’re making is either indicative of concern or pain. What’s on your mind?”

The books carefully stowed in his backpack after checkout, Foggy winced. “I don’t want you to get upset.”

“But…” she interjected.

“I did something. And while we are still in this _quiet_ library, I’m going to tell you so that you don’t blow up.”

“What could you possibly…”

“I called Danny; he’s here and wants to see you at lunch” he blurted out, eyes darting back and forth. Jen inhaled sharply to speak words of reprimand, but Foggy placed a finger over her mouth and grimaced. “I wanted him to know what you went through because I know you weren’t going to tell him until after all the damage was healed. He’s in town and he wants to see you. By the sounds of it, he’s really upset.”

“No fucking shit,” she hissed under her breath, long strides moving toward the door.

He chased after her and gently grabbed her elbow. “Just wait a second, Mac!” he pleaded, jumping back when she spun to face him on the steps. “I want you to have siblings that care for you and rely on you like mine do. Danny’s important to you, so he needs to see you like this; to know how _he_ tricked him.”

“What gives you the right to even make that kind of call,” shoulders tense, eyes ablaze. Her motions were strained and she pointed at him, “Is this something the two of you concocted because you think it’ll make me feel better? Huh?!”

“No!” Foggy shouted back. “Matt had nothing to do with this. He doesn’t even know I called, so you leave him out of it. But I know, somehow, he’d agree with me a thousand percent that you need to talk to your brother. Mac! Look at you: you look like you got hit by a damn truck. Your bruises are wicked.”

“They’re healing, thank you for noticing,” she spat, hands clenched.

“I know,” Foggy relented, softer. “But if Danny doesn’t know…he’s never going to believe it and sometimes…seeing is believing.” He tucked his thumbs under his backpack straps and stared down at his shoes. “Look, if you think that what I’m saying isn’t true, then don’t come to lunch with me. But if you think that I have even a shred of credibility and truth to what I’m saying, then you need to come with me to lunch.” He looked up at her over his brown line and noted the confliction in her eyes. “If you’ll feel safer, I’ll call Matt and he can meet us there. But as your friend and now a part of your family…I want to help you.”

“God damn it, Franklin Percy Nelson,” Jen sighed with a nod.

A shudder traveled down his spine. “I can’t tell how pissed you are at me… _and_ you used my middle name…”

“You can call Matt. That might help. But I don’t want you two ganging up on him,” she sighed in defeat. “I have somewhere I need to be, but I’ll meet you for lunch in an hour.”

“Promise?”

“…yeah, I promise.”

 

The faint smell of incense filled her nose as she sat in the old, wooden pew. Her eyes traveled around the room, taking in sights of intricate, carved-stone pillars, gothic-style wood surrounding the altar and the light filtering through the stained glass painted her body with impressionistic colors.  
She had come to find St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral on one of her runs and fell in love with the history of it, having its construction completed in 1815. There were plenty of churches she’d traversed into to appreciate architecture or art for, but this one in particular had wrapped a tender hand around her heart and drew her back.

“This is the third time that I’ve seen you here this week,” came a quiet, friendly voice from her left.  
Jen turned and casually glanced up at the older man standing in the aisle beside her. He had a full head of salt and pepper hair, cut neatly in what she recognized as typical priest fashion. The priest was a little taller than she would be if standing and had his hands clasped together in front of him.  
“I’m Monsignor Rich Dufort. Is there anything that I can help you with? There are places I can call if you need assistance.”

Jen chuckled and shook her head. “No, that’s not necessary, thank you, Monsignor. I’m not a battered woman, though I look the part. Well, I mean, I am; but not in the way you’re thinking. He’s in jail and I’m in the city on vacation.”

“Ah,” he nodded and sat in the pew behind her. “I see. Is there something on your mind?”

“What gave it away?” she turned slightly to talk over her shoulder. “The eyes, the pained expression, or the aura of torment?”

“Call it intuition. You have crept in before the twelve-ten mass for the past three days and left before the parishioners enter. Sat in this same pew each time, leaving alms for the church on your way out. Why?”

“Isn’t that what people do when they come to church, Monsignor? Is it not appropriate to thank in a way that we are able for the clarity or peace given within these walls?”

He nodded, “Is that what you seek? Clarity or peace?”

“That’s what everyone seeks,” she conceded. “Hence why we continue to pile into churches, even in this day and age.”

The clergyman leaned forward on the pew with his forearms, hands still clasped together. “But someone isn’t everyone.”

Jen turned back to face the ornate stained glass, a large crucifix hanging aloft in front of it. “If you are asking for confession; I know that you serve it tomorrow. I don’t know exactly what I would be confessing, anyway.” He remained still in the quiet that settled between them.  
“It’s a matter of my soul, I suppose.”

“If you wish to tell me, I will listen,” his tone compassionate.

 _What the hell could it hurt, in all honesty?_ “It’s my brother, you see. He’s younger than I am. He’s going to college this year and I’m proud of him for it in the way that all older sisters are. But…but he betrayed me in a way that has caused a despairing grief to settle inside of me.”

“What, in your mind and heart, was this betrayal?”

She cleared her throat, eyes transfixed on the crucified Savior, blues and greens shining on the effigy of Him. “He told the man who did this to me where I was so that he could find me. As a result, you see the damage done to me.”

“Did he do this with ill-will in mind?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, closing her eyes and bowing her head. “A part of me never wants to know. But a friend of mine, more like family, really,” she paused to breathe deeply. “He has brought my brother here so that I can talk to him about it and I want so desperately to see him and never see him again.”

“You are afraid of the truths that you might learn.”

“Yes,” she nodded, voice quiet. “If it is a particular set of truths, it might break me.”

“Coming here for clarity today more so than peace, wouldn’t you say?”

Jen turned around to face him, brow furrowed. “Possibly.”  
“There’s a monster in me, Monsignor. It’s been there since I was a child and it’s caged. If my brother…if – if he…” she choked out. “What happens if that cage breaks because of that truth?”

“Everyone has a part of them that they feel is unworthy, dark, doubt-ridden; evil. We do our best, every day, regardless of how difficult it is, and try to be better for it. What you do with it is what defines who you are. If you don’t see your brother, you will be left with the ponderings of that potential meeting for the rest of your life, not knowing if he was innocent in it all. If you go, at least you would know.”

“Which is the greater evil? Not knowing or knowing? I’ve heard ignorance is bliss.”

“Yes, but knowledge can free the soul from torment.”

“Or damn it.”

“So,” he paused. “What are you going to do?”

“I promised I would go to the lunch and see my brother. I am a woman of my word. So I’m going. Both of my friends that live here in the city are going as support.”

“Sounds like you have quite the circle that cares about you.”

“They do. Both of them care about what happens to me; try to keep me sane and out of trouble. And…” she trails off.

“And?”

“One of them isn’t afraid of the monster inside me.”

 

“ _I’m on my way. Had to stop off somewhere first. I told Foggy I’d be there.”_

Murdock nodded, coming to a stop and moving out of pedestrian traffic. “I had no idea this was happening. I would have told you.”

_“Would you? If you were in on it?”_

_Would I? I might have. Maybe. But now things are a little different_. “I would have told you and then threatened to carry you over my shoulder kicking and screaming if you said no.”

 _“That’s believable,”_ she snorted. _“Hey, thanks for going. I don’t know what I feel right now, so…”_

“I’ve got you, okay? You say the word and I’ll get you out of there. I know Foggy’s trying to help. And he’d do the same. He’s not trying to ambush you. He wants your brother to know just what kind of hell you’ve been through.”

_“I know. It just…sucks. There’s this weird feeling sitting on my chest, you know?”_

He chuckled, trying to alleviate some of the tension in their conversation. “I mean, I know what it’s like to have you sitting on my chest.”

 _“Ha ha,”_ her tone flat. _“You’re welcome. It builds character. And makes your core stronger?”_

“You’re not one to usually grasp for answers,” he teased. “It’s going to be okay, Jen. And if it’s not, I won’t let you suffer.”

_“You make it sound like you’re going to take me out back and shoot me Ol’ Yeller style in a shed.”_

Murdock laughed and adjusted his glasses. “Not quite. I kind of enjoy having you around for as long as I’ve got you this time. Do you still want to go to the gym this evening? We can reschedule if you’re not feeling up to it.”

_“No, I’m going to need to go. I’m sorry in advance if I beat the shit out of you.”_

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I won’t let you. I just won’t go as easy on you this time.”

_“This time? I whooped your ass at the loft. You think it’s going to be better at the gym? Right. Anyway, how far away are you?”_

“Ten minutes walking. You?”

_“Closer to twenty. I have to get a cab. And you know, traffic is great.”_

“It’s going to be okay.”

 

The four sat at a round table outside one of the local eateries that Foggy felt was neutral to their current situation. The boys had all gotten there some time before her and were chatting quietly when she approached to sit down. Danny sat across from her, Nelson and Murdock across from each other, all as if this were some formal visit.

Matt’s knee brushed against hers under the table, the only physical contact she’s had with him in four days. They agreed, considering how much interaction they’d had together since her arrival and action with each other, for that matter, purposeful space for the sake of not blowing their cover was needed. They still talked on the phone every night at the end of the day, but it allowed an odd sense of distanced normalcy into their routine.

Her heart leapt wildly in her chest and her fingers itched to wrap themselves around his, but they were on display. Rule one was in effect.

“Danny,” Jen nodded congenially, taking her sunglasses off and placing them on the table.

Foggy turned to say something, but the words were lost when he saw her face. “You’re wearing makeup,” he lamented.

“To prove a point,” she replied. “Now. This feels like a proper mediation. You have two lawyers at the table, little buddy. You don’t have to worry about me reaching over the table to throttle you for what happened to get the truth out of you. So. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Daniel Ross MacDougall was nearly as tall as Dom now, lean and lithe in build like she was, but with dark green eyes and caramel blond hair that he inherited from their mother. By God’s graces, he looked more like their mother now than he did growing up, despite them both having the same nose and ears from Malcolm.  
In hushed tones, Jen described her brother into Matt’s ear and waited, leaning back in the metal chair for Danny to reply.

“Your friend Foggy…he called me last week. Told me what happened. And then – then Dom came home and saw me at the store and ripped me apart. I’ve never seen him so angry.”

Her brows lifted in mock surprise, hands resting on her belly. “You’re surprised? I told you for years,” she bit her words, “that Malcolm did those things to me. Did you think I was lying?”

“Mom said you were.”

“Mom’s an idiot and you know it. Stop beating around the bush, Daniel.” Foggy winced at her tone and asked the waitress for more water. “You didn’t want to believe it because it was easier to think of me as a fuck up. Now, tell me why you’re here and why I should even listen to what you have to say?”

“Jenny,” he pleaded.

“Don’t,” her response instantaneous and wrathful. “Don’t ever call me that.”

Matt placed a hand on her arm and patted gently. “Danny, your sister has been through a great ordeal. I was there when it happened. All three encounters with your father. She’s upset at present because that’s what he calls her and I know that she’s asked to not be called that. While this may seem frank and detached, I’m going to ask that you not call her that, either.”

Jen’s calculating eyes stared back into her brother’s, showing his guilt, hurt, and discomfort. “Okay,  
 he breathed adjusting in his chair. “Jen. I’m sorry.”

The breath Foggy had been holding in rushed from his lungs. Jen looked between both of her New York boys and sat up only at Matt’s nod.

“I’m sure you are. Everything I said. Everything that I told you growing up…about _him_ …it’s true. The police have it on a recording. Him saying that he did some of those things to me…”  
“Do you know how hurt …no… how betrayed I felt last week? That you would do something like that to me? Even if our mother told you to?”

“Jen, look. I – I don’t know how to tell you how shitty I feel. How I should have listened. How much I want to fix things. You have every right to be pissed at me…”

“I have the only right,” she seethed. “No one in this family knows what it’s been like to be me all of this time. Growing up with it. Being told to hide it. Being told to lie; being told I was a liar. And you went along with whatever she said as gospel. And I waited for the day where I could sit down with you and talk all of this out. Explain it to you…”

Foggy leaned in and snapped at her, “Well, Mac, he’s here now. So what are you going to do about it? Huh? He already feels like shit. You’re making it worse.”

“Good!” she nearly screeched. Matt bowed his head and blinked behind his dark glasses. She remembered a conversation that they’d had, talking about how she wanted Danny to know and for everything to be right again. Heaving a quick, heavy sigh, Jen reached into her purse and pulled out a bottle and some cotton pads.

Her hands opened the lid and Matt was able to catch a whiff of its contents. “Jen,” he reprimanded, but her fingers were already making quick work of using the makeup remover to take off the concealer and foundation from her face.  
Murdock could hear Danny’s heart change pace and nearly flutter midbeat when the last of her camouflage had been removed. The young man’s entire demeanor changed and his body was no longer radiating as much heat as it had minutes before.  
_He can see everything on her face._

Jen sat upright, challengingly, and showed off her marred skin. To her horror and satisfaction, Danny couldn’t look away and tears began to well in his eyes. “There,” she huffed. “This is what _your father_ did to me. There’s more, but it’s indecent to show that in public.”

“Jen,” his lip trembled. Suddenly, Jen didn’t see an eighteen-year-old college student; he was five again and asking her why there were monsters under his bed, hiding in the dark shadows of his room. “Why? Why?”

Before she could understand what was happening, she launched herself out of her chair and stood beside her brother, hands cradling his head against her side. “It’s okay,” she hushed. “I’m okay, Danny. I’m right here.” Jen sniffled quietly when Foggy pressed a consoling hand at her back. “I’m here.”

“Why did he…to you?” Danny sobbed into her shirt.

“Because,” the lump in her throat was growing. Every effort was made to shove it back down when she tried clearing her throat, but it was done in vain. “Because I was …protecting…you.”  
Her younger brother’s arms wrapped tightly around her waist, cutting into some of the healing bruises but she didn’t care. “Shh,” she consoled as best she could. “It’s over. He’s not coming anywhere near us again.”

Once he had regained a sense of composure, Jen sat back down at her seat and cracked a tasteless joke at her own expense about her face, Danny laughing at it. The men at the table, led primarily by Danny, would ask questions and Jen would do her best to answer them over the lunch. No one ate much during that time, but transparency was given for the first time by the MacDougal siblings and they both were able to learn more about each other and their family than they could have hoped for.

 

“I’m proud of you,” Matt’s eyes smiling while he concentrated on wrapping Jen’s hands. “You know, for what it’s worth.”

“You’re proud that I didn’t make a scene with my brother? Ye of little faith.”

“No,” he smirked. “Proud you didn’t kill Foggy beforehand.”

Jen snorted and bowed her head down. “I was tempted, but as you said once, Foggy is half of your friend base…so…”

“Mercy? For me? You shouldn’t have,” he placated, tapping the back of her hand to indicate he was done. Jen began wrapping his hands in kind. “All kidding aside, I’m glad that you decided to come talk to your brother, regardless of how it happened.”

“I promised,” she revealed, eyes intent on her task. “I don’t make light of breaking promises.”

“Hmm,” he hummed appreciatively. “I guess the real question is thus: Do you feel better?”

“I don’t know,” her tone honest with a shrug. “Knowledge will either damn you or set you free. With Danny knowing…I don’t know how that’s going to weigh on him when he gets home tomorrow. I didn’t want to burden him with that, you know? Not that I don’t feel for you knowing…that’s not what I’m saying…but – but I dunno. It’s different for him, yeah? He’s grown up with this vision or idea in his head about how our family was and not how it is. Was ignorance bliss?”

“I’m guessing going to church helped.”

“Church? How did you know…wait…no…let me guess…” she teased. “Was it my aura of Catholic guilt?”

Matt’s voice was quiet, soft and warm, “No. The incense…it was on your clothes and skin. I could smell it in the breeze when you sat down. Catholic churches have a distinct smell to them.”

“Huh. I smelled, duh. I should have guessed. What do you know.” The tape was tossed aside and she guided them over to the mat. “You ready?”

“To beat you, sure. Though, if you beat a blind guy, is it even really a victory?”

She crossed herself and eyed him skeptically, leaning forward. “It’s you. Painful as it is, I’ll try and make an exception to the rule.”

“How kind and gracious of you.”

“Alright, hot shot, on your knees,” she instructed following suit. “Now that I know that you have some grappling experience, I’m not going to go easy on you, but I promise that I won’t sting you like I did last time. I won’t have to. So you better give me your best, Murdock.”

 

The cool air of the gym seared her lungs, muscles ached and rippled under her skin; a trickle of sweat falling from her brow. A tangled mass of limbs, both Mac and Murdock panted and strained to keep their opponent from winning the pin resulting in something akin to a stalemate. The question was how long could they keep this up before they got tired enough to let go.

“I could do this all night,” Matt huffed, blowing her hair our of his face. “Might as well tap out now, Jen.”

“I don’t think,” she grumbled, adjusting her fingers on his arm for a better grip, “you realize how stubborn I am, Matt. I could win this really easy if I cheated.”

“Cheat? How could you possibly cheat,” he grumbled, pulling against her legs. “You’ve been stuck like this for almost twenty minutes.”

“Nope,” she whined, discomfort pulsing between her shoulder blades. “I agreed to win this fair and square. Just like the last round.”

He panted, arms shaking. “You only won because I got sloppy.”

“Win’s still a win in a fight,” she reminded through clenched teeth.

Matt rolled his eyes. “You might as well _try_ and cheat, it’d be a nice change of pace.”

She slithered an arm up between their flush torsos and pushed behind her head to roll them across the mat. He furrowed his brow, doing his best to contain and restrain her in the hold he though she was in, but her skin had grown slick from their workout and it was difficult to maintain a grip. Her legs tightened around his torso and she twisted until she sat atop him and planted a kiss on his lips.

Matt immediately slacked his grip on her, freeing her other arm and she shoved his shoulders down into the mat. “Pinned,” she grinned against his lips. “I win.”

“Because I let you cheat,” he relaxed, a hand moved to cup her face.

“Let me?” she challenged, sitting up. “I had to get my hand up without any of your help.” Mat sat up on his forearms. “I rolled us using torque from my hips and momentum and physics and made sure that…”

“I know,” he put a hand at her waist. “Because I let you cheat.”

“Whatever,” she playfully shoved him back down and struggled to her feet. She dug her palms into the muscles at her thighs, willing them to work properly. “You think what you want.”

Amused, Murdock swiped a leg behind her knees and sensed as she began to fall backwards. His radar sense picked up how her muscles had already pulled her limbs backward to have her arms brace for impact against the mat and her hips were already in rotation to have her legs under her. In short, he had created a chain reaction that inevitably would cause Jen to bullet herself right at him once her feet got under her. And she did.

Using her momentum against her, Matt rolled with her as she tackled him and slammed her on the ground leaning over her. “Pinned. Give me some credit.”

“You sure you’re blind?” she grinned, out of breath. “Because if that’s not the best roll that I’ve been put into… I know a lot of guys back home that are going to be real upset that a blind guy did it better.”

“You said it, not me,” he snorted, flopping down beside her.

“You tired, Murdock?” she patted his stomach absently.

“A bit. We’ve been doing this for near two hours.”

“Pshh. I’m just getting warmed up. Just…you know. I need a minute to…yeah.”

“Mm-hmm,” he replied knowingly. The law student reached up onto the bench for his phone and dialed his roommate.  
“Hey, man; Jen’s at the gym and wants someone to walk her home. Yeah, I know it’s late. Look, I’m closest; I can do it tonight if…well you sound exhausted, what have you been doing?  …Oh, man; that book was grueling.  …yeah, I’ll walk her home, but I’ll probably just crash at her place then. …Nah. I’ll be fine.  Cool. See you tomorrow.”

“You make it sound like you and Foggy have joint custody,” she rolled her eyes, tumbling over and pushing herself up. “And who said that I’d even take you anyway, huh? Especially after I whooped your ass half the time.”

Jen threw a towel at him covering his face. “Well,” he pulled it away after wiping his forehead, “you could have said something before I told Foggy I was staying.”

“Cocky son of a bitch,” she smirked, now fairly dry. Matt stood up and draped the towel over his neck, face smug. “I’ll wipe that look of your face so fast, your head will spin.”

“You make my head spin for different reasons, Jen,” he shouldered his gym bag. “If you want me to go home say the word.” Jen pulled his hand toward her and began unwrapping the tape from each appendage in silence. “Should I assume that you’re pouting because you know you aren’t going to send me home?”

“If you think for one minute that you’re getting lucky tonight, you’re mistaken,” she affirmed after the first hand was free. “I’m pretty sure my hip is out of alignment and my shoulders feel like they’re on fire.” The other hand was free and he moved to do the same for her. When the tape pulled from her right hand, she gave a slight hiss and bit her bottom lip.

“Sorry,” Matt’s fingers trailed around the red skin at her knuckles. “I didn’t mean to…but you know that. One more pull and the last of it will be off. Ready?”

“Yup,” she nodded, blowing air out with puffed cheeks. “Let her fly.” A quick ripping sound echoed in the ceiling, as did a nice handful of swear words in languages Matt didn’t recognize. “I’m glad they’re healing…but shit!” Her partner made light work of the other wrap and tossed the tape into the trash on the way out.  
Jen shouldered her back pack and wrapped her hand around his. “Come on. You look how I feel.”

“That bad, huh?” She laughed heartily in response. _I think I love that sound. Genuinely._

“And you’re rough on a good day. What are your plans for tomorrow?” Jen hailed a cab and stood patiently as it come closer.

“Nothing overly important I can think of. Why?”

“I was thinking about going to the Jewish Festival over by Sixth and Forty-ninth. Want to go?”

Matt pressed into his ribs with his free hand and grimaced. “Let’s see how you feel in the morning, champ. We’re getting older, you know.”

“We? Speak for yourself, old man. You were sluggish the whole night.” She opened the cab door and let Matt slide in first before directing the cabbie to her address. “Tsk, tsk. Shame.”

“What, that I’m blind and couldn’t compete?”

“Pfft, no,” she laughed off. “That you’re getting old.”

“We’re practically the same age, Jen.”

“But you’re still older than I am.”

“Barely.”

“Still older, grandpa.”

Her fingers moved in lazy circles around his knuckles as she gazed out the window. “If you say so,” he sighed, tired. Matt could feel the humidity and pressure changing around them in the city and the smell of damp hung in the air.  
“It’s going to rain tonight.”

“I can smell it, I think,” she agreed, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. “If it does rain, I’ll sleep like a rock. Even better if there’s thunder.”

“Really?”

“Guess that kind of pulls you out of sleep and messes with your perception, huh?”

“A bit,” he admitted. _More than you realize and it’s worse when there’s lighting. It’s harder to focus with the air being so charged. And how the sound can boom off buildings or around in rooms…_ “Doesn’t help my bat hearing, either.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

He shrugged. “I can’t control the weather. It is what it is.”

“But still; I’m sure at times that could be terrifying.”

“It used to be,” he reminisced. “When I first went blind. Everything was so loud, you know? But…you get used to it. Adapt. Get grateful for what you have…accept what you can’t change and mold your life around it.”

“If I could be half the man you are, I think I could call it a day and be good with it,” Jen observed with a knowing nod.

“Jen, I can fully attest in a court room of law that you’re a woman,” he jabbed playfully.

“I just rolled my eyes at you,” she groaned. “You know what I mean.”

“I’m no saint, Miss MacDougall.”

“Oh, I am very aware, Mr. Murdock. I understand you about as well as I know myself, remember?”

“True.” She chuckled as the cabbie made a left into Soho. “What?”

“Neither am I.”

 

_Saturday_

“You’re the worst,” MacDougall groaned, throwing the dish towel at Murdock.

“That’s not what you said to me last night in the shower,” a gleam in his eye. “Or after I got you in bed.”

Jen pointed the butter knife at him unthreateningly and bit her lip. “I don’t recall being given the opportunity to say a lot of things.”

Feigning innocence, Matt began to dry the dishes he was being handed. “Are you implying, Miss MacDougall, that’s somehow my fault?”

“Implying?” she snorted, lifting a brow. “You know what; I hate you. We are officially not _not dating_ now.”

“You wouldn’t be able to convince any judge or jury about that one,” his stomach bounced as he laughed. Jen went back to scrubbing dishes. “Are you sore about that now?”

“Sore because of other things,” she muttered under her breath. “Meh meh meh.”

“You weren’t complaining last night.”

Jen turned to face him, and threw her hands on her hips. “You think that you’re so smooth and charming.”

Matt shrugged and leaned his head in her direction, “There's evidence and precedent to say so.”

“Doesn’t mean that you need to believe every pick-me-up I send your way,” she taunted.

“Ouch,” the corner of his mouth turned upward into a wry smile. “I’ll have to keep that in mind for later. You sit on a throne of lies.”

“About time you wised up, Matthew.”

Jen’s phone rang and she dried her hands on Matt’s shirt before answering it. “Thank you. That was very kind of you.”

“I do what I can,” she sassed.  
“Jennifer MacDougall.”

_“Where is Danny?”_

“Oh. Hello, mother.” Matt sighed and resumed his task of cleaning up from dinner. “Danny’s fine. He’s here in New York with me.”

_“Are you out of your mind? You took him to New York with you and now my baby is in ‘that’ city?”_

Matt frowned. He felt bad eaves dropping, but it was difficult not to given his circumstances. And her mother screeched like a hawk.

“Me?” Jen sat on the arm of the couch, aghast. “You told Danny to call our father and tell him where I was in the city. Do you want to know what happened to me once he did find me?”

_“You have always been so dramatic, Jennifer. Always. If you weren’t the star of the moment, no one could be.”_

Jen nodded, knuckles white. “He beat me.”

_“You would say anything. Anything! Always to get your way. I had you and wanted the world for you and you threw it all away. You were supposed to go a do great things. Look at all of that talent and time and money wasted on you. And now you’ve gone and taken Danny from me. How could you?”_

“Jackie,” Jen whispered with a steadying breath. “Don’t call me anymore. Danny’s here. He’s safe. He’s coming home tomorrow. He and I talked. He is my brother…”

_“He is my son!”_

“…and I will talk to him so much as he wants to.”  
“Furthermore, your odd and tenacious obsession to try and live through me vicariously because Malcolm knocked you up so early is not my fault, nor is it my problem any more. You strive to always get what you want. You borderline have implied that anyone that gets in the way of you getting what you want will be crushed. You’re insane and I will do what I must in order to save my brother. Understand that.”

_“You selfish bitch! If you hurt Danny or your father, I swear to God that I’ll…”_

“You’ll what?  _You’ll what,_ Jackie? I think I’ve been dealing with your horseshit for too long. And my father?” Jen bolted upright, voice raised. Matt could hear her teeth grinding against themselves and then tendons in her fist strain. “Malcolm is in jail, mother. He beat me. Admitted to what he did to me on tape. I hope that bastard never gets out!”  
“How could you put him over your children? You are sick!” she spat. “Maybe you belong there with him!” Jen hung up the phone and tossed it to the other end of the couch. Her breath was shaky and her blood felt as if it were boiling, edges of her vision going black.

“Hey, it’s okay,” a warm, deep voice snaked its way into her ear. “You’re safe, Jen. Danny understands now, and we spent all day with him…it’s going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

Turning to look over her shoulder, she could see that Murdock was a few feet away emoting concern. “I know,” she nodded. “And still I’m angry.” An uneasy pause followed. “I need air…I’m feel like I’m being strangled...”

“Okay,” Matt nodded, knowingly. “Do you want me to go with you?”

“No,” her reply tense. Jen bit her lip and kneaded the back of her neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound bitchy…I just…need to be outside or something right now. I’m sorry.” Her phone was pocketed and keys snagged before the door closed behind her.

 

It had begun to rain again. The dampness of the city was creeping into her nose, filled with the smells of water, rust, concrete, and dirt. A claustrophobic humidity clung to Jen’s skin as the large rain drops continued their assault on her and the city.  
Her mind a muddled mess, she continued walking until she had made it to the edge of Central Park. There were two voices in her mind telling her what she should do. The first sternly told her to go back; that she’d had enough time to think. The other, however, whispered for her to keep going because she wasn’t done yet.

 

Jen dragged herself into her bathroom and flicked the light revealing her soaked frame in the mirror. Her chest moved with the slow, deep breaths that her lungs so delightfully craved and her eyes looked piercing. It was the first time, she realized, that she’d been able to see herself as the demon that resided inside of her; as _The Wolf._ Her eyes skimmed down and she cracked open the beer she’d brought in with her and drank deeply from it.

There was a smear akin to a stroke of red watercolor on her face. Turning the tap on hot, she splashed the last remnants of it from view and washed her hands. She’d ripped her knuckles open again. The purity of water seemed to sting and hiss at the open wounds, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if she could truly feel that pain at this point. There was only the matter of getting the blood off of her skin.  
She knew she had purposely taken a risk walking alone at night. She’d walked away from Matthew, the one person she felt that understood what was going on her in head. An unbridled sense of guilt and worthlessness had taken over where she felt her soul should be.

 _I wish I hadn’t gone into the park. I wish I hadn’t gone to Umpire Rock. I wish I hadn’t found that mugger and his buddy. I wish I hadn’t beaten them both…that I hadn’t continued to lay into him even after he was down and pleading for me to stop. That I’d have listened. That I wouldn’t have had to call 911 and report that they needed to get to a hospital. That I’d have felt something over the rage. Over the howling in my ears. I wish hadn’t listened to the whispering in my soul…the pit in my chest…to my demon and personal hell._  


_…but I did._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are wonderful. Just so you know. And if you haven't been told today, you look amazing.
> 
> Also...I'm sorry in advance for Chapter 22... :(


	19. The Rocket's Red Glare

_The Fourth of July_

The city was bustling and the feeling of fellowship was extended to every person the trio had come across all day. Foggy had made breakfast, Matt packed them a lunch to eat in one of the parks, and now the three were bar hopping. Nelson had made a comment earlier in the week about watching fireworks from the East River, but Mac and Murdock both weren’t overly keen on crowds.

“I’m saying that I’ve got the hookup for the fireworks,” Jen smirked. “You just need to trust me!”

“Right,” Foggy rolled his eyes, elbowing Matt. “You expect me to trust the tourist about where to view fireworks in our city?”

Jen drank deeply from her beer and winked. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“At this point, I feel it’s safe to assume Jen’s got an in somewhere. Perk of the job, I’m guessing?”

“You could say that,” she nodded, wiping her mouth on the back of her arm. “I look at it as a bonus. I got back to work and in thirty-six hours, I was able to give him four potential locations that I liked for the new restaurant. He must have liked at least one of them because he asked what we were doing for The Fourth not long after.”

Foggy’s brows popped up, his tone laced with skepticism, “If you say so.”

Matt’s fingers found his watch and he nodded. “It’s nearly eight. What time did you say we had to be at the secret spot?”

“Around eight thirty. We should probably head out. I don’t know how congested traffic’s going to be. I’ll go square up and pay the tab. You two behave yourself for three minutes.” She got up from her seat and made her way to the bar.

“Any idea where we’re going?”

Matt shook his head, “Nope. She’s been silent on it. I guess this is her payback for us bringing the Bonners out last month.”

“Are you going to be okay with all of it? You know, the people…the noise…?”

“I’ll suck it up,” Matt shrugged. “She’s trying to do something nice before she heads back.”

“How do we feel about her heading back after she’s been here for nearly a month?”

“We? That’s subtle.”

Foggy gave a knowing smile and leaned forward. “Buddy, you’ve spent almost the entirety of the trip with her. You practically have a running tab for the use of that couch at the loft.”

 _Well, that’s not entirely untrue._  
“But, she’s slept soundly nearly every night that she’s been here. If that’s the one thing she can take away from visiting, then I’m okay with it.”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s definitely more rested and happier. She seems healthier, I guess…stronger…brighter? I dunno, man. She just seems better now than she did when she got here. And that asshole of a dad didn’t help any,” Foggy looked across the bar admiringly at Jen. “You think that we help?”

“Definitely,” Matt replied without hesitation. “Dom and I talked after the last conversation she had with her mom. There’s a lot going on in her head all of the time. But he feels like she has some sort of clarity out here and hopes that if Duquesne offers her New York if the time comes, she’ll take it.”  
“He admitted that she’s made more strides in finding herself and what she wants in life in the past six months than she has in the past decade.”

“You could argue that’s a part of growing up,” Foggy retorted, finishing his beer. “But I can see where he’s coming from. Maybe it was destiny, buddy. The three of us all coming together like Musketeers. We help keep her sane, she is a better wingman for me than you are, and you’re far less moody.”

Matt chuckled, “Thanks, man.”  
_Less moody is one way to describe it._

“I’m surprised that, with as irritable as you two can get, you haven’t had a fight.”

Matt’s brows appeared from behind his glasses and he leaned back in his chair. “We have.”

“Wait. Seriously? Over what?!”

“Someone attempted to mug her and she ended up putting them in the hospital. We argued about her purposely putting herself in those kinds of situations where she has to defend herself.”

“Jesus. You think it’s because she’s become a bit of an adrenaline junkie?”

“No,” Matt’s lips pressed into a firm line and he rubbed his hands. “I think it’s because she’s got her problems and issues and she’s handling them poorly; probably the only way that she knows how.”

“Think she’d get help? Or therapy?”

“Don’t know,” Matt confessed standing up after hearing her pay the tab. “All we can do is support her the best way we know how and let her know that she’s safe, I guess.”

Foggy turned and watched her move through the crowd, concern overtaking his features. “She should talk to someone. If not a therapist, then definitely one of us. We’re family.”

“She has to feel safe enough to tell us on her own,” his cane extended and Foggy led him out the door. “Jen may never want to tell us everything because it sounds insane in her head and she may think that we couldn’t possibly believe her.”

“That’s nuts. How could she hide something like that?”

“Everyone deals with their problems different, Foggy.”

Jen met them outside and stretched out her neck. “You two ready?”

“Lead the way, my lady,” Foggy bowed dramatically. Jen hailed a cab and shoved the boys inside once it had come to a stop. “That was a bit anticlimactic.”

“30 Rockefeller Plaza, 50th and 5th, please.”

“Thirty Rock? What strings did you get pulled for that?”

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” she smirked, patting her backpack on her lap.

 

“ _Can I help you?_ ” a gruff voice came over her phone.

“My name’s Jen. Is this Casey?”

“ _And?_ ”

“Mike Duquesne gave me your number.”

_“Oh. You. Did you bring the payment?”_

“Sure did. We’re outside the observation deck entrance.”

_“And you’re not going to cause trouble?”_

“No, sir. Absolutely not.”

_“Give me a minute. I’ll be out shortly.”_

Jen hung up and pocketed her phone and waited patiently. Foggy quipped, “Well. This is fun.”

“Patience, grasshopper,” Jen smirked. “All in good time.”

A broad-shouldered gentleman came to the door and unlocked it, ushering the three inside. “Wait…he’s blind?”

“He’s my best friend,” Foggy defended. “He goes where we go.”

“I know; the irony,” Matt smirked.

“Casey, Mr. Duquesne and I don’t want you to get in trouble or lose your job,” Jen began. “So if you don’t want us here, we can leave. That’s one-hundred-percent your call.”

He shrugged. “Nah, people do it here all the time. You folks are the eighth or ninth group I’ve had to let in tonight. So you aren’t going to be alone. Besides, Duquesne helped get my cousin a job out in Chicago when no one else would hire him.”

“Really? Why is that?” Matt asked.

“Kid couldn’t read,” Casey divulged, leading them to the elevators. “Duquesne gave him a job and took the time to teach him how to read. Figured that if a good guy like that called and asked if he could have some people in the building for the holiday, you couldn’t be that bad.”

Jen smiled sheepishly and unzipped her backpack, handing Casey the contents wrapped in a paper bag. “As promised, one bottle of Stoli and one bottle of Walker Blue. Plus I put a bottle of something extra in there from us.”

“Appreciate it,” Casey mumbled. “You know where you’re going?”

“Yes, sir,” she nodded. “Mr. Duquesne gave me directions.”

“Good. Keep it calm and quiet and go straight up. Don’t deviate onto other floors and we’ll be square. Remember, I can see you all on camera.”

Jen ushered her boys into the elevator and saluted Casey. “You’re a gem, sir. Thanks a million.” The doors closed and she pressed the button to take her to their destination.

“What’s going on?” Foggy sighed in disbelief. “Mac, you’re being super secretive.”

“We’re going to the Top of the Rock on the seventieth floor. Don’t worry.”

 

Just over a dozen and a half people littered the panoramic rooftop equipped with various blankets, lawn chairs, and photography equipment. Jen had invited Marci to meet them and Foggy immediately made a beeline over to talk to her leaving Matt and Jen to stand in the corner.

The rooftop had glass around its entirety as a safety precaution while not hindering the 360-degree view of the city. The East River was just visible to the left and the skyline was gorgeous.

“Did you ever come up here as a kid?” Jen asked quietly as she peered around at the view.

“No,” Matt reminisced. “I don’t feel like this was open when I was younger. I have a feeling that it only reopened to the public after my accident.”

“Hmm,” Jen nodded. “Your city is beautiful. A lot of the buildings have turned off a majority of their lights, but still…it’s something spectacular.”

“Tell me what you see.”

In vivid detail, Jen explained everything she could see and began painting a stunning picture in his mind. He could sense the electricity all around them, how the wind carried different smells from across the city, and the energy of the people around him; but, Jen did her best to show him light and color in a world that was on fire.

When the fireworks began, Matt could readily tell which ones were her favorite by the quickening of her heart. She divulged that the ones that looked like cascading, gold glitter were the ones that she enjoyed most because they reminded her of _The Great Gatsby_ and fragments of memories from her childhood.

Towards the end, Matt leaned down to her ear and said, “Are we still going out after all of this?”

“I was planning on it,” she affirmed, her head close to his. “Unless you guys don’t want to, then we can head back.”

“Nah,” Matt smirked. “We’re just going to have to pry Foggy from Marci or bring her along with us.” He motioned over his shoulder with a grin. Jen’s eyes followed his direction and saw the pair of them making out like a pair of teenagers without a care for the fireworks.

She laughed and nudged Matt in the ribs, “Looks like he’s still got a thing for her. Ten points to me.”  
“You doing alright, hot shot? I know it’s kind of loud.”

“I’m okay,” he nodded. “Promise. But you’re buying the first round.”

Jen lightly punched him in the shoulder before wrapping her hand around his arm. “Deal.”

 

“No, you’re…drr-runk,” the platinum blonde announced in a fit of giggles, pointing at Nelson. “I’m fine.”

Marci Stahl had agreed to join them on the last of their barhop tour for the evening and had done her best to go toe-to-toe with Jen. Unfortunately for both women, they were highly competitive and refused to let the other win.

“Mar-ci,” Foggy hiccupped. “You are drunker than me,” his head lolled to the side. “Let me t-t-take you home.”

“No. Where’s Mac? I want her to s-s-s-see that I won.”

“She’s paying our tab,” Matt announced, bracing on the wall outside. The world was swimming a little underfoot and he knew that despite the amount of alcohol Jen had ingested, she was in a much better place than he was. Where Marci decided to hammer back martini after martini, Jen paced herself a little better and wasn’t entirely shitfaced.  
“She said to start heading toward the station and she’d catch up.”

The inebriated trio began making their way down the sidewalk, a few staggered steps interjected their normal gaits before Jen exited the bar. She tripped over the weatherproofing at the door and turned around and called the inanimate object a few choice names. Matt smirked, coming to a stop and turning in her direction.

“ ‘ey, yo, ma. Wha’s good?”

Jen turned around and stared at a group of men around her age dressed for the occasion.  
_American flag shorts, Sperry’s, and tank tops. Typical. And a big fancy car idling behind them. Are they seriously trying to pick me up? I mean, I know I don’t have many, but I do have some standards. Sperry’s and American flag shorts? Yuck._

“The bar’s good and they have two dollar drafts right now.”

“Nah, mama; I’m talkin’ about you.”

Her head pivoted down the sidewalk and she saw Matt begin making his way back to her. “Me? I’m good. I’m going home.”

“Ntk. Don’t be like that, girl. Come on. Let me buy you a drink.” Jen leaned and admired the car over his shoulder. “You like what you see?”

“It’s a Lamborghini Gallardo Coupe in Nero Noctis black. Looks like you got the automatic though, that’s a shame.  Your daddy must love you lots to get you one of these,” she quipped sarcastically.

“Nah, ma. It’s mine. You know something about cars, honey?”

“Oh, this and that,” she nodded. “I know that it’s got a 5.2 liter V10 engine, you’ve got the carbon ceramic brakes on it and that’s a custom exhaust job.”  
“Still doesn’t mean I’m not leaving.” Jen turned around to walk away when the glorified frat-brother she had nicknamed Kyle in her head grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him.

“Don’t be like that,” he moved his hand to cup her backside and gave it a hard smack. “You could party with us. Look at you. Those short shorts and that tank top. You’re lookin’ good.”

A coy smile appeared on her lips and she cleared her throat. “About as good as your car?”

“Better,” he grinned.

Internally, Jen rolled her eyes and gagged. The man was practically wearing an entire can of Axe and had enough gel in his hair to give the men from Jersey Shore a run for his money. “Uh-huh.”

Matt stopped ten or so feet away and now Marci and Foggy were quickly retracing their steps to find out why the other half of the group wasn’t following.

“Come on, Sweetie, you know you want some of this.”

Matt sucked in a quick breath and leaned back on the wall.  _Oh, shit._

Jen shoved _Kyle_ backwards and hopped on the hood of his car. His posse began shouting at her to get down while they did their best to help their buddy back up. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? YOU CRAZY BITCH!”

“But,” she danced around on the roof in time with the music from the bar, “I thought you wanted me to come home with you? You really are giving a girl mixed signals.”

Fully aware of what was going on courtesy of his heightened senses, Matt waited for Foggy and Marci to appear before asking, “What’s happening?”

Impressed, Marci nodded and pulled her head back in surprise. “Your girl is dancing on top of a very, very expensive Lamborghini and pissing a group of boys off. Good for her.”

“She’s going to get in trouble,” Foggy warned, shaking his head. When Jen jumped and slammed her weight into the hood, Foggy nearly fainted at the sight of the large divot in the metal. “She’s going to get in trouble _and_ get us thrown in jail.”

“I suggest,” Jen huffed, kicking at the men trying to grab her. “That you start running and I’ll catch up.”

Foggy didn’t need to be told twice and he grabbed both Marci and Matt by the arm and began booking it down the sidewalk. Murdock could sense that Jen had startled enough of them to back away from her before the leapt off the car and took off like a bullet, weaving in and out of some traffic to evade the men following her.

“Matt, steps, buddy. You’re going to need to pay attention and not fall on your ass!” he shouted as they neared the subway station.

Once they had gone down a handful of steps, it was harder to sense what Jen was doing or how far behind she was. “What about Jen! We can’t leave her!”

On que, Jen’s energy reappeared and her heart thundered in his ears. She was sliding down the bannister quickly and passed her three friends on their way down. “Hurry up!” she shouted. Once together, Jen shoved her group into the car just as the doors were closing, narrowly sliding in herself much to the dismay of her pursuers.

Nelson leaned heavily on one of the metal bars, a perfect example to how out of breath they all felt. Once the carriage began moving, Jen stood up straight and walked in a small circle taking quick stock of their situation. A ripple of laughter cut the silence of their fairly empty car.

Marci stood up and wiped the sheen of sweat from her forehead and winked at Jen. “Now that’s a party.”

Jen snorted and bent over, hands on her knees while Matt moved to sit on one of the seats. “Life’s certainly not dull when Jen’s around.”

“Obviously. You two couldn’t cook up this kind of trouble even if you tried,” she giggled, the alcohol burning in her blood.  
The Nelson, Stahl, and MacDougall all moved toward Matt and flopped down in a seat, chests heaving and blood burning in their veins. Jen chuckled quietly to herself. “I think you all underestimate how truly inebriated I am. I kind of feel bad.”

“You should!” Foggy whirled. “Do you know how much damage you did to that car?”

Marci scoffed, “Foggy bear, he grabbed her ass.”

“ _Foggy bear?”_ Matt and Jen exclaimed in unison, sniggering and trying their best to stifle laughter.

“That’s it,” he huffed, dejected. “You both suck. I hate you. When do you get your ass back to Ohio so that my life can go back to being boring?”

“Don’t worry. It’s soon… _Foggy bear,_ ” Jen teased, shouldering into him.

 

_July Eighth_

Jen sat on her rooftop, legs swinging idly over the side, while her eyes drank in everything around her knowing that she was going to be leaving around this time tomorrow. The sun was turning into liquid gold as it lowered itself across the sky, the beginnings of topaz, rubies, and amethyst beginning to littler the sky above.  
The loft was done, all the finishes had been installed on the sixth and Duquesne was pleased with the work accomplished in the shortened time frame.

It’s not that she wanted to leave: every day the city felt more like she belonged here. A place where the large population gave her a sense of both isolated intimacy and an insane belonging to a whole. She felt that way back at her apartment on the east side of Columbus. But Columbus didn’t have Matthew Michael Murdock or Franklin Percy Nelson.

Someone down the street was grilling steaks in their apartment with the window open and someone below was listening to Count Basie. Her little corner of New York was very much alive and it made her feel a sense of calm. The door creaked open behind her and the soft clinking of glass reached her ears.

“How’d you know I was up here?”

“Intuition. Can I join you?” he offered her a beer as a peace offering.

She shrugged. “It’s a fairly free country so long as you aren’t going to get pissy with me again, Matt.”

“I said I was sorry,” he retorted coolly, sitting beside her. She sniffed loudly and opened her beer. “Four times now.”

“Rule two.”

Matt sighed heavily and bowed his head. “Honesty.”

“You agreed,” she shrugged again, taking another draw from the bold bottle. “I get it if you don’t want to tell me right now, but shutting me out like that after everything that you’ve had me tell you…feels a bit unfair, Matt.”

He lifted his hands to scrub his face and groaned. “You have to be one of the most tenaciously stubborn people I’ve met.”

“Thank you.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Why does it matter so much to you to hide it?” Jen cracked open another beer and placed it in his hands. “You know that just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean that I’m going to be an asshole to you.”

He snorted and nodded in thanks. “Guess not.” He threw his head back and stretched his jaw.  
_She has been nothing but a saint to you the entire time she’s been here. Sure, we got into a couple arguments here and there, but she’s starting to get a little too close and putting pressure where it doesn’t need to be. If she knows me…and I mean really knows me…it’ll kill me if she leaves._  
“Okay, Jen. Okay. What do you want to know?”

“You always tell me that I need to stop fighting. But what about you?”

“What are you talking about?”

Jen peered down at his hands and shook her head. “You might be the son of a boxer and that’s all well and good, but I know when someone’s going after a bag to train versus someone’s going after it because they’re angry. I’ve been there. I know what the difference looks like.” Matt groaned before finishing his beer. “So why won’t you talk to me about it?”

“Because in the grand scheme of things, it’s not important.”

Jen replaced her empty bottle and took out another for the pair of them. “If it’s important to you then it’s important to me. I don’t understand why you can’t register that after everything you know.”

“What do you want, huh? I came up here to apologize, _again_ , because you’ve become this important fixture in my life and Foggy keeps telling me that I’ve managed to screw everything up again. But here I am, hoping that eventually you’ll realize how sincere my apology is.”

“I know it is!” she nearly shouted before quieting herself. Some pigeons cooed in annoyance as they settled back into their nesting spots nearby. “I know it is, Matt, because I can tell.”

“So?  What?”

Jen stared back out at the skyline, the vein at her temple throbbing. “I just wish you trusted me the same way that I trust you.”

“You… what?”

“I’m not saying this to make you feel better and – and I’m not saying it because I want you to think I take this kind of thing lightly, but Jesus Christ, Matt: I trust you with my life. Not Dom. Not Foggy. Not Danny… You. God knows why. I can’t fully explain it. I just know that I trust you with my life and I’m not saying that you need to trust me like that…but damn, Matt…a little faith would be nice.”

“Faith? That’s a bit doctrine, isn’t it? Having faith. You think that God’s the reason that I’m blind?”

“This isn’t a moral or ethical discussion. This is about you and me. And you pulling that card is low.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Either you trust me or you don’t.”

“I do!” he shouted louder than he anticipated. “That…that’s the problem, Jen! I trust you. And despite everything in me telling me to be careful and cautious and not let you get too close…I keep ignoring it knowing that – that it could tear me apart.”

“That’s all a part of it, Matt,” she turned to face him, tone pleading. “I promise I won’t judge you. I joke about it but…I won’t. I promise. I just ask that…if we’re really going to follow the rules… _our_ rules…then we need to follow them because it’s what we’ve got.”

They sat in silence, the sun had begun to to set behind the buildings and the graying-blue hues of dusk had crept into the sky. Warmth radiated around her hand as Matt reached over and clasped his fingers around hers.

“You might be uncomfortable or borderline afraid, and that’s okay,” her voice soft. “Because you’re brave. Because you’re a fighter…you’ve been fighting your whole life, Matt. And you and I both know that when we go to hit someone, we open ourselves up to getting hit.”

“Then I guess that makes us both idiots.”

She chuckled and patted the back of his hand with a kind smile reaching her eyes. “I mean…yes. But at least we aren’t lost if we’re together, you know?”

“I’ve started doing more than just working out,” he cleared his throat. “I’m angry sometimes…and – and as I’ve gotten older…I can feel it. Do you remember me telling you about my grandmother and what she used to say?”

“Yes, I remember.”

He nodded and sat quiet for a time before continuing. “I’ve been going to the gym more because I’m…angry…and if I don’t let it out…I feel like if it will take over.”  
Matt cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “Jen, look…I promise that when I tell you that I trust you, I do. It’s just…I don’t know how or what to do with it…you know? Like…how am I going to screw it all up…and – and yeah. I’m angry. I miss things. My dad was taken from me. I was put in an orphanage. People left me…”  
“So when you ask me how I am or – or what’s on my mind…and I tell you that I’m okay…”

Jen gave his hand a squeeze, gentle and assuring before pondering on her answer. “I know,” she swallowed hard and leaned her head against his. “I guess I should tell you that I’m okay, too.”

 

Jen was curled tight against his side, taking up her usual space against his shoulder and draping her limbs across his body as if to prevent him from leaving. Her slow, even breaths danced across his chest and her skin smelled faintly of the city.  
After talking until the sun had disappeared and darkness blanketed the sky, Jen invited Matt to the loft and asked him to stay the night. They’d apologized repeatedly in all manner of ways until they found themselves in the bedroom, tangled in each other. Now, she was on the verge of snoring softly and was rapidly sinking into the realm of dreams.

She would be leaving, he reminded himself. Tomorrow. Her body felt stronger against him and he wondered if that strength would continue once she would go back to not sleeping again; if she would miss him as much as he thought he would her.

_I told her things that I’ve not ever really told anyone. I told her a little about what life was like with my dad and the complicated emotions that go hand in hand with that…and Stick…she got the quick and easy version. I told her what it was like growing up in the orphanage and pushing myself to be better at everything in school…to pursue my dad’s dream of me being a lawyer and not a fighter. Jen sat there quietly and didn’t interrupt and she listened; she heard me._

_Jen didn’t press me for more, she didn’t make any judgements against what I said. For something that is supposed to be so casual, it doesn’t feel that way. I have this weird feeling sitting in my chest knowing that she won’t be here tomorrow night. In my city. In my neighborhood. With me. Protected by me. Protected? How the hell did I protect her, huh? I sat back and let her take the beating at the gym. Like an asshole. But now with the grappling she’s been teaching me, it’s more believable if I’d come to her aid. She knows a small inkling of what I can do._  
_Damn. She’s not going to be here tomorrow night. I won’t be in her bed._

_Christ and all the saints, I’ve got it bad for Jennifer MacDougall. Now what do I do?_


	20. Sinning as Devils Do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not an overly long chapter, but it's been one of my favorites to write and as you read, I hope that you'll see why.  
> I also write a lot of my chapters to music and associate different songs with other chapters and vice versa.  
> (Perks of being a professional musician?)
> 
>  
> 
> So, if you're interested, this was the song that prompted the chapter below: (Dat bass ostinato, tho)  
> KaiL Baxley - Boy Got it Bad

Muffled something. I can hear it; like my head’s underwater just beneath the surface. I’m being pulled. I can hear the voice in my head that I assume is either my conscience or internal dialogue telling me that it’s time to wake up. But the pain that’s starting to overtake the majority of my sensory awareness? That’s one hell of a bitch.  
Wait…that was a thud. I know what those sounds are. Someone’s fighting. Are they fighting amongst themselves? Christ. How long have I been out? What did I miss?

My eyes crack open. Well, I say eyes, it’s really only the one. The other is pretty much swollen shut thanks to Bennet. After a minute to focus and adjust, my brain metaphorically slaps me in the face and I realize the lights are out and shadows keep moving around.

It’s him. Here. He’s here. And he’s fighting these assholes and saving my ass. Again.

Rustling of fabric and the dulled sounds of limbs against skin stills and suddenly, a dark figure appears at my side. He’s clad in black and the majority of his face is covered in some sort of mask.  
“I’m here. I have you. Are you alright?”

I chuckle like an asshole. _He’s not serious, is he? God knows how long I’ve been like this on the floor tied to this damn chair and you want to know if everything’s good? Jesus.  
_ “Oh, yeah,” I cough. “Just swell.” He begins working on the bindings at my ankles first. Those are new. I must have been kicking at some point. When he starts working on my hand, I hiss as my left arm is moved.

“Your shoulder…it’s dislocated. I can help get that back in if you’ll let me,” his voice lower than the last time we spoke. “I don’t think I need to tell you it’s going to hurt.”

He does his best to stand me up without having me topple over and I nod, shooting my other hand to brace myself against his shoulder. “Come on, No-Fear” I nearly growl. “I don’t have all day.”  
The media at this point was calling him _The Man Without Fear_ at this point. They hadn’t come up with any other clever nicknames for him yet. This was our third run-in and every time I’d called him _No-Fear,_ like it was a one syllable word.

His hands guided my left elbow and wrist in a series of circular motions that were excruciating. My mind blanked out and my vision morphed into a sea of white. Pressure released itself from behind a dam and relief flooded my body after a small pop echoed in my ears. It is only after the pain began to subside I realize how tightly my fingers were digging into the flesh of his shoulder.

“My tuba,” I whine.

He ushers me forward with an arm around my waist. “I’ll get it after you’re out.”

My good eye surveys the room as I sway on my feet. No-Fear is trying to get me out of the building. _One…four…five…_  
“Wait,” I stop, shaking my head and rubbing my temple. “How many?”

“How many? How many what?”

_There’s more, Jen. Think. You need to be smart about this._ “Assholes, genius. How many?”

“Five here; one down two floors. Why?”

“No,” I shake my head. “No, no; there’s more.”

“How many,” his tone sounds more like a statement than anything.

The room is spinning as I turn back, retracing my steps to my chair. “Four. There’s a big guy missing, two that were packing, and the boss.”

“What are you doing…you need a hospital.”

“I need,” I snap, “to make sure this is done. So I’m going to act as bait. Unless you have a better plan.”

“Bait?” I can nearly see the surprise on his stupid, masked face. “No. I’ll take care of them. You need to leave.”

I set the chair upright with a loud bang and sit back down in it, gingerly reaching behind it to hold my injured arm. “Oh, like you took care of it the night I found you on my roof? That’s real convincing. You know, it’s because of that I’m even in this predicament in the first place.”

“Mac…”

“Don’t,” I snap. “Don’t you dare. We can do this my way where you help or you can get the hell out of here and I’ll finish this myself. I’m not spending the rest of my life looking over my shoulder for them. I already survived enough of that.”

He stands quietly for a minute with hands clenching at his sides. I know he’s angry. I know that adrenaline is like jet fuel in his veins and he’s itching to keep fighting. That’s how I know he won’t argue because he knows I’m right.  
“I’ll put a loose knot on your wrist. You’ll be able to break free. But the minute you think you’re in trouble, you shout for me and I’ll let loose.” The knot’s weak and barely doing anything to hold my hands in place. “Do you understand?”

“Sure thing, No-Fear. And if you’re on the ground floor?”

“I’ll hear you.”

I snort…or at least try to and it comes out more like a stifled cackle of a gag. “What, you got super hearing or something?”

“Yes,” he replies matter-of-factly. “I do. I could tell you were in here before I knew you were missing. I heard you and I came. Now. Swear it: swear you’ll call out at the first sign of trouble.”

“I’ll do what I can to ensure you get your fight, big guy.” _Who does he think he is? What a fucking asshole_.

Without a word, he sets off and starts moving the unconscious men out of the way and ends up putting them somewhere. Probably a locked room. Or the bottom of the elevator shaft. I really don’t know. Or care. What I do know is that I need to get my shoulder some ice, to elevate my hand, and to reset my nose before it gets any worse.

I’m swimming in my head for a while before I realize the sound of dragging bodies has stopped and the New York Vigilante has gone quiet. He’s hiding. I know he is. Because it’s what I’d be doing if I wasn’t bait. Because I know.

While sitting here, I feel myself go in and out of consciousness; I’m exhausted and I haven’t been this banged up since _the accident_. The resounding thought that he is out there watching over me and waiting to take out the last four guys pulls me back to reality. No-Fear.

How much time’s passed? I don’t know. It’s still dark out and for a city that never sleeps, it has gotten a little quieter where we are. It’s got to be late. But I do now hear the scuffling of feet up the stairs. It’s Tiny. It’d have to be with the way those feet are plodding around.

When he comes into view, he looks around at the empty room and sneers. “What the fuck…”

“I dunno,” I mumble, spitting out a clot of blood from my mouth. “They’ve been gone a while.”

“Typical,” he grunts, tossing the contents of his pocket onto the card table. “And they even left mid-game. What morons. The Boss isn’t going to be happy that you were left alone for so long. You could have gotten away.”

I laugh. Sad, I know, but I do. “Nah, man. You got my tuba over there. I won’t leave without it. It’s important to me. Long as you got that, I’m staying put.”

Tiny looks over his shoulder and nods. “You one of those musician types?”

“Not really; I just like to play. Makes me feel better sometimes.”

“Boss wants us to melt it down for scrap,” he walks to stand beside me, gauging my reaction.

I stiffen, “You’d do better just to sell it. It’s a German horn. It’s the good stuff.”

“Huh,” he smirks, pleased that I’m pissed.

When he turns around to walk away, I stand up and shoot my heel into the side of his knee with the kind of strike that can break multiple layers of boards even though you only really need three pounds of pressure to break a knee.

Tiny howls in pain and reflexively bends down to deal with his injury while my arm has chambered back and I let it fly into the side of his face. My brain goes into overdrive. I’m weakened at this point and not at my best. That hit will have him stunned for a moment, if anything; so, I grab the chair with my good arm and wail it overhead onto him. Luckily for me, he’s out cold.

_Bang. Ba-ba-bang!_

“No,” my voice catches in my throat. I don’t know where I’m going, but I run towards the sound of the gunshots. No-Fear had to be dealing with the other assholes and he didn’t have to do it alone. He knows that, right? I mean, I did save his ass on my roof once. We talked.

Down the steps, around corners, diving in and out of corridors until I slam into a body and bounce off of them. It’s one of the guys that had a pistol in his jacket.

“You!” he roars, scrambling to grab me. “He knew you were here! It’s you!”

My legs automatically start kicking at his hands while my arms do their best to pull me backward. I kick him in the face, albeit accidentally, and he screams out. “You fucking bitch! I’ll kill you! I don’t care what he wants!”

A shadow befalls us both before my current aggressor is lifted off the floor and thrown into a wall. “Stay away from her!”  
I sigh. That voice has done a lot lately to save my ass from harm so it’s not really any wonder that I’m relieved to see him beating the daylights out of this guy.

“That’s enough,” I warn when I hear bones cracking. But the masked man doesn’t stop. “I said enough,” my voice more stern. He hears me and stills. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” When he stands, blood drips picturesquely from his knuckles and his chest heaves with great strain. What I can see is the shade the scum of this city are beginning to tremble in fear over and it absolutely delights me.

“You said,” I croak, my voice now reflecting the trauma I’ve experienced, “that you’d get my tuba. Go get it.”

He snaps at me, taking great strides to get in my face, “I’m not an errand boy for you to order around.”

“But you are a man of your word,” I sway and lean onto the closest wall. “I’ll wait here. I promise.”

“ _You promise_?” his voice lifts in pitch. He’s pissed. “Like you swore you’d call for me when you got in trouble? I could hear you fighting the big guy upstairs! Jesus Christ; you don’t listen!.”

“I didn’t get in trouble. I dealt with him and then you found me when I did get into trouble.” The endorphins I had are dissipating and pain is starting to prevail. “Wait…where’s the boss?”

“Didn’t show,” he huffs in an obvious annoyance at my change of subject. “Get to a hospital. I’ll get your God damned tuba.”

I reach for my phone and realize it’s not there. “Fine, but grab my other stuff, too. I need it for work. Just leave it on the roof and I’ll get it when I get out of the hospital.”

“If you deviate and go anywhere else, I’ll know. Don’t try me, Miss MacDougall. This is not a game. You could have died.”

“We can talk about this later,” I whine, hobbling down the steps with bells going off in my head. “Get my shit. I promise I’ll go to the hospital. And don’t hurt my dog.”

“I won’t hurt him.  …you promise?” he repeats, darkly.

I stop and look over my shoulder, “For you, my dog and that instrument, I am a man of my word.”

 

“We need a doctor here!” a nurse shouts as I walk through the emergency room doors. “Get her into room nine!”  
“What’s your name, darling? Can you tell me your name?”

“Jennifer. MacDougall,” my body melts into the gurney. I don’t care where they take me. I know my tuba’s going to be safe and No-Fear said something very poignant tonight that confirms what I’ve thought for months.  
“Call Foggy Nelson and Matt Murdock; Hell’s Kitchen,” I reiterate over and over as they cut away my clothes. I repeat that phrase like it would be the only words I could ever speak again until the pain is too much. My heart is beating loudly in my ears and the sterile smell of hospital disinfectant fills my nostrils.

“Hang on, you’re going to be alright,” the doctor shouts but he sounds so far away.

_Sure._

Machines are whirring in the background of consciousness and I become cognizant of why I’d hear those things. I’m in a hospital room. Again. When I crack my eyes open, a very disheveled blond man is sitting at my beside cramped in an overly small chair.

“We need to quit meeting like this,” I rasp startling him. “I hear it’s bad for some reason or another.”

“Mac!” he shouts, eyes glittering back to lucidity. “You’re awake! Lemme get Matt!”

“It’s okay, Fog,” I wince from the volume of his voice. “Could you just stay here until he gets back?”

“Sure. I’ll call him.” He pulls out his phone and fires off a call before I can protest. “How are you feeling?”

“Probably as awful as I look,” I chuckle but he doesn’t find it amusing. “I’ll be fine. The guy in the mask saved me.”

“Saved you? He basically left you to die, Mac. You walked in here on your own. A real hero would have brought you here.”

I shake my head, my mind is throbbing despite the nice pain cocktail the hospital’s given me. “No. He saved me. He was still working when I left.”

“You make it sound like you admire the guy,” Foggy groans. “Just like half of the city. You enamored by the vigilantism, too?”

“Not enamored, no; but one can’t argue with the results at times.”

“Sure I can, I’m a lawyer. There’s the letter of the law for a reason. You can’t take matters into your own hands that would be anarchy and…”

“I’m very well aware of what can happen,” I warn, my demeanor becoming more stern. “You don’t need to lecture nor remind me.”

“Yeah, well…leave it to you to take Matt’s side in an argument without him even being in the room,” he grumbles, reaching for my hand and rubbing the back of it. “Two peas in a pod, the both of you.”

As if on cue, the door opens and in walks a person I’m genuinely excited to see. “Speak of the devil,” I grin. “Were your ears burning?”

“You’re awake!” he smiles and taps his cane to find his bearings within the room. The drink carrier full of coffees is placed on the nearby table and he reaches for the edge of the bed. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll live, I promise you,” I lean back in the pillow and gingerly pull my leg across the bed for him to sit on the edge when he’s ready.  Matt has a few scrapes and mild bruising on his face and I can see the back of his hand has a nasty cut on it; knuckles reddened. _Interesting_.  
“I’ve had worse.” His hand miraculously finds mine and wraps warmly around the hand with my IV. It’s cold, so the heat is welcome.

“Thanks for the coffee, Matt. I’ll head into the office and try to get some work done. It’s your shift anyway,” Nelson stretches up, vertebrae cracking back into alignment as a response.

“Shift?”

“Yeah,” Matt grins sheepishly. “We wanted to make sure someone was here with you at all times once we found you. So we took shifts so, regardless of when you woke up, one of us would be here. It’s only the second day.”

“Guess that means I owe you both dinner once I’m able.”

Foggy’s hand punches through the air, “Heck yeah! I can’t say no to that. And if you make that amazing chicken parmesan, Mac…not that I’m looking for one of your amazing dinners specifically…”

“You got it, Mr. Nelson,” I smirk. “Go save the world.” He kisses the crown of my head and leaves with a quiet click of the door.

My chest feels heavy again and the pain is subsiding indicating that I just got my next dose of medication. “I might fall asleep on you,” I warn.

“It’s okay,” Matt nods and takes his glasses off. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

My fingers curl around his and he finally sits on the bed. “I know you do.”  
“You okay?”

Matt’s eyes search for something, but he attempts to save face. “I just got a little hurt. I’ll be okay. Promise. From what I hear, my injuries don’t compare.”

_Well, he’s not lying to me._  
A flash of a comforting smile washes over his features and the corners of his eyes wrinkle, but then he looks almost morose…like when he found me in a hospital the last time.  
“Hey…”

“Hmm?”

“I’m here,” my voice is softer, quieter. “I’m right here.” The heaviness is increasing and I can feel layers of lethargy weighing down on me. “The man in the mask saved my ass again.”

Matt frowned, ”Did he? He didn’t harm you?”

“No,” I sigh. “But I got worried, you know?”

“Why,” he shrugged. “Seems like he can take care of himself based on what I’ve read in the papers.”

“The last two guys,” I rub my face roughly, “had guns and I heard them go off. I got worried that he’d get hit and not make it out. So I ran to go find him.”

His demeanor became more terse. “I think that you’ll find that if a man wants to exercise outside of the law, then he needs to realize there are certain dangers that he’ll need to understand. If the masked vigilante wants to keep doing what he’s doing, then I would assume he recognizes those dangers and either ignores them or isn’t afraid of them.”

“Hmm,” I nod in understanding. “I told him we’d talk later. It’s funny, you know?”  
My skin’s starting to feel numb and it’s as if the bed could swallow me whole at any time. “Will you stay with me until…”

He nodded firmly and squeezed my hand. “Try to fall asleep. I’ll be here to protect you. I promise.”

“I know…” I feel myself being pulled into another round of slumber and I know without any hesitation that Matthew Murdock still has my back. Even after all this time.

 

Dr. Bruno kept me in the hospital for three days. Foggy called the restaurant to let them know that I had been attacked and wouldn’t be into work while Matt called Duquesne and told him what had happened. By the time day two rolled around, I was going stir crazy.

“My dog has been without me for nearly three days. I don’t care that my friend’s been checking in on him. I need to get home!”  
I begged and pleaded to be let out early to the point I was willing to sign myself out. Foggy interceded and kept the hospital staff from restraining me with compromise. I would be allowed to go home so long as I was checked on every six or so hours.  
Matt didn’t really argue because the man knows better at this point in whatever our friendship is, but offered to be one of the people to check on me.

Foggy jumps in front of Murph as he trots to the door to greet me and I know he can smell the hospital on me.  
“Murph, sit!” Foggy tries to command. The Great Dane stares at me, nose twitching.

“You can listen to him, too, Murph. It’s okay. Sit,” I rasp.

“I was worried he’d jump on you as soon as you got home.”

“Nah,” I wave him off. “He knows not to jump at me.”

Foggy scoffs, “Just me then?”

 “Yeah,” I huff as I mosey to the couch, plopping down less-than-gracefully. “You’re a jumbo chew toy!”

When I cross the threshold into my apartment, my tuba is sitting neatly in its case in the middle of the floor with a small note attached to the handle. Gingerly, I lift it between my fingers and read “ _A man of my word_ ” in messy script. The embellishments are slightly feminine in the _m’s_ and the _y_ , so I’m slightly perplexed: it doesn’t match what I’d expect No-Fear to write with.  
My caretaker rolled his eyes and hauled the tuba into my office without a fuss, but I could tell he was annoyed.

Foggy had spent most of the first day home with me, checking in every so often to make sure that I hadn’t died. Outside of my healing shoulder, swollen knee, and the hairline fracture in my orbital socket, I was fine. Mostly. The Boss Man was still out and about on the loose assuming that No-Fear hadn’t gone and caught him.

Dinner time rolled around and I had ordered in some Chinese food for Foggy and I. I decided to try just some lo-mein noodles to be safe and got one of Foggy’s favorites.

“I’m just saying, Mac; you’ve got a nose for trouble and I want you to try and tone it back down a little bit.”

“ ‘ou ‘ot ih,” I slur through slurped noodles. It feels good to have a little normalcy back in my life. “Also,” I nod, “thank you for calling work and taking care of my baby. It’s greatly appreciated.”

“You’re welcome. What’s family for?”

“Reminding me what’s worth living for.”

Foggy’s eyes scan over me and the energy he did have withdraws a little, searching for some adage or word of wisdom to tell me in comfort or solidarity. But he doesn’t. He’s lost the words for it.  
“Mac…”

“It’s alright, Fog. I know. I’m not going to go out looking for any trouble any time soon. You being worried about me is enough of a suppressant on my desire for mischief.”

“Good, because if I had to give you any more brotherly or fatherly advice, I was going to wing it and we both know nothing good could have come out of that.” I grin and sit back in my couch with my leg propped up, Murph’s head sitting in my lap. Foggy gets up and moves into the kitchen, changes out my ice pack for a heat compress, and returns with a faint smile on his lips.  
“I hate seeing you like this, Mac.”

There’s a strong ring of truth to what he’s saying. He’s said it before, you know. When Malcolm found me, the accident, when I spiraled back into oblivion and got into fighting again…now this. I’m getting older. It’s taking longer for me to bounce back, and I’m still fairly young. But maybe it’s because of all the licks I took growing up…always getting thrown into the dirt and forcing myself to get back up. Always getting back up.  
“Yeah, Fog; me, too.”

 

I hobble my way up the spiral, wrought-iron staircase in the back corner of my apartment to the roof and sit on the patio furniture I have, staring absently up into the sky. Waves of exhaust and heat drift into my nose as the sounds of cars diving by mix with the white noise coming from small groups of people pouring out of restaurants and bars. Boutiques and shops have closed up for the night and SoHo has an all different vibe to it now. One that I like.

Then I’m not alone. I can feel that I’m not. He’s here.

“I knew you’d show up tonight.”

“How,” his voice deep, gravely almost.

“You knew I was home, hence why I came up here: saves you the trouble of coming into my apartment again in your present getup. Though, I must thank you for my tuba; however, I know you didn’t write the note.”

“I’d argue with you, but that’d insult both of our intelligences.”

“Good.” I forcefully make myself stand up and try to get a good look at him, but he’s standing in the shadows. “I wanted to thank you,” I stumble in his direction.

“Thank me? You sure? You sound angry and if you lie to me, I’ll know.”

_I’m not sure. But my heart is racing and I’m sweating. If he’s got super hearing…then maybe, perhaps, he can sense other things too.  
_“I did just get beat pretty badly for associating with you. Excuse me if there are some mixed feelings.” _That’s not technically a lie_.

“I never intended… this. I never wanted you to get hurt. If I would have known that this would have happened when you found me here months ago…” I step closer and nearly fall when strong arms jut out to grab me. “You’re still healing; you need rest.”

“I’m very aware,” I huff straightening my back upright. “But gratitude is still gratitude and I need to tell you thank you. Not just for getting my instrument back to me…but for saving me. Twice now. It’s not your job to look out after me, especially when you’re doing all you can to clean up this city…but…thank you.”

His head bows down for a moment and it seems that his shoulders have relaxed some. “I just want to make it a better place.”

“I know you do.”

The next few moments are fleeting, but important.  
One: Even in this bashed state, I am able to complete probably my best fake-out as I chamber my muscles in one direction and rocket my good arm forward.  
Two: No-Fear wasn’t ready for it. So either he’s not as good as he thought, I’m just that good, or he wasn’t paying attention.  
Three: He was right. I am angry. But I didn’t need him to know that.  
Four: I have a vice-grip on his balls and every time he moves, I constrict my grip that much more.

“Don’t talk,” I growl, “and don’t you dare try to fight me. I’m injured and I don’t think you realize how little patience I have at the moment.” No-Fear squirms relentlessly.  
“Fighters are some of the best liars in the world; did you know that? Want to know why?” He fidgets and I tighten my grip, but he doesn’t fight me. His hands shoot upward in surrender as I walk forward, backing him into a wall by the main stair.  
“We deny everything. Pain. Joy. Love. Peace. We deny ourselves these things so that we can be better. Survive that much longer. But we’re brave. Not because we fight. Not because we have to be. But because we know that when we go to hit someone, we open ourselves up to being hit.”  
He winces and moves up to his tiptoes to get away from me; his mouth gaping open for air. “We’re both fighters. You know that. And if you thought I wasn’t paying attention, you son of a bitch, then don’t know a fucking thing and are not as intelligent as I’d thought you to be.”


	21. A Flicker of Light

_“I’m excited. I’m going to be there for Christmas this year. Foggy’s family has invited us all over for dinner.”_

Matt grins and turns his head in Foggy’s direction as Jen’s voice rings in the air from speakerphone. “From what I’ve inferred, they’re opening up the back of the shop to accommodate all of us. Who all is coming from your end?”

_“Well, I’ll come down as soon as the semester is over next week. But then The Bonners and Danny will be out a few days before.”_  
_“That reminds me. I have some news to tell you both.”_

“More news?” Foggy grinned. “Have you become an heiress and realized you want to adopt me as your ward?”

 _“A girl can dream,”_ Jen laughed heartily. _“But no. It’s multifaceted…so I’ll give it to you in doses, if that’s okay?”_

“Are you alright? It’s not your mother, is it?” Matt asked quickly, ignoring the attention he was now receiving from Foggy. Her mother had been calling and leaving nasty messages on her voicemail calling her a homewrecking whore and though she tried to not let it get to her, it took an emotional toll.  
Jen had made three visits back to New York after starting her schooling in Chicago last year. He had a girlfriend for one of those visits and she’d been respectful of it considering. They’d been open with each other the whole way, but now he was worried. She’d been on his mind a lot lately, especially with her eminent return to him.  
_Rule two and Rule three: Honesty and Don’t hurt each other. What if she has someone now?_  
“Jen?”

_“I’m graduating this month. Technically. I got all of my work done early, did all my research and such…I’m graduating early again.”_

“Jesus,” Foggy exclaimed. “You’re making us look bad! Way to go! Proud of you!”

“That’s insane. How did you get all of your classes dealt with?”

_“A lot of my work experience took care of it, plus having the fellowship combined with working my own hours…I was able to bulldoze into my studies and kept passing things…I’m the top of the class.”_

Matt grinned. “How does your boss feel about this?”

_“Says that’s exactly what he expected. Anything but my best would have been insulting. But working alongside him for the past year and a smidge has been great. He’s definitely the person I need to work for at this point in my life. But that’s not all.”_

“Next you’re going to tell us that you got a promotion…” Foggy scoffed.

 _“How’d you know?”_ Jen exclaimed. _“I tried to be quiet about it. Not even my staff knows.”_

“I was joking!” Foggy shouted. “Did you seriously get a promotion?!”

“Jen,” Matt smiled, “I told you it was coming. You kept telling me ‘ _No way. It’s too soon_ ’. You’re good at what you do, and obviously Duquesne and the board of directors think so, too. I’m so very, _very_ proud and happy for you. Way to get to work, Miss MacDougall.”

_“Thanks. And now for the final bit. Are you ready? This is the best part.”_

“I think my heart’s going to explode,” Foggy jumped over the back of the couch to plop next to Matt. “I’m ready. I’m even sitting now. Spill. What’s the good stuff?”

_“So I need to thank you for sending me pictures of the new Duquesne property and the construction, Foggy. It’s been cool to see the outward progress…of my new office.”_

Matt’s heart beat madly against his ribcage and his cheeks felt hot. He cleared his throat, “Your what now?”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”

Jen was quiet for a moment, gathering herself and quelling her excitement. _“My office. Duquesne is sending me to run affairs for Duquesne Enterprises, New York. I’m coming out early to find my new apartment…because I am now the head of the New York office. That’s what the promotion was for.”_

Foggy cheered loudly and Matt’s smile beamed from ear to ear. “The band’s getting back together! Permanently!”

Jen and Foggy talked back and forth for a time while Matt retreated back into his thoughts. _She’s coming home._

 

“And how did you manage that bump on your head?” Jen’s shoulders slumped down as she shrugged off her backpack, hands lifting to examine Matt’s swollen temple.

“I didn’t duck fast enough into the taxi.”

“That’s not the whole truth, Mr. Murdock,” she lifted his chin with one hand and ghosted her fingers over the small lump. “Why did you hit the side of the taxi? You’re not usually that clumsy.”

“I got pushed by a bicyclist riding by,” he admitted, showing the broken arm to his glasses. “But I’m fine. Want me to get your luggage?”

The airport was fairly busy with the number of inbound flights coming to La Guardia for the holiday. People were moving left and right in herds and the last thing Jen wanted was for more people to shove into Matt considering how his morning had gone.  
“You can take the backpack. I’ll do the luggage. I sold the rest of my stuff before coming out here. You’re sure that you and Foggy are cool with me crashing at the apartment until the loft is ready?”

Matt shouldered her bag and wrapped a hand around her arm. “Absolutely. I think Foggy wants you to cook tomorrow morning. Just warning you.” Jen stood on her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. A bow of his head and the flush in his cheeks were enough evidence for Jen to feel sure of herself. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“Thought so,” she proclaimed, guiding them to the taxi ranks. “Let’s get you home, hot shot. I can fix your glasses there. If you don’t mind, after we drop stuff off, can we go walking?”

Matt’s hand slid down her arm to clasp around hers. “I think that’s a great idea.”

 

Biting, crisp; clean: New York’s winter air burned in her lungs and sliced through her peacoat urging her to pull Murdock closer as they walked. Comforting warmth radiated off of his dark leather jacket through the thick fabric she wrapped herself in. Central Park had children running around and playing in the fresh dusting of snow. Sounds of pure joy rang through the air so clearly, so radiantly that she nearly forgot she was in the middle of a metropolis.

“I’ve missed you,” Jen asserted after they had been walking in comfortable silence. “Really.”

“It’s my amazing personality, I know. Makes everyone I meet magically attach themselves to me and wish they could never leave me.”

“Oh? Really? That’s news to me.”

“And she comes back swinging,” he chuckled, shoving into her side. “I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled, focusing on the path before them.

“I am,” Matt countered, turning to face her with a furrowed brow. “You graduated early from undergrad. You’ve graduated early with your masters. You earned a promotion in the company you work for and as you’ve said, everything is finally lined up in your life.”  
Matt stopped her from continuing forward and put his hands on the sides of her arms. “Whole heartedly, I am so very proud of you and what you’ve accomplished on your own.”

Her cheeks burned and it wasn’t from the winter air. “I didn’t do it on my own. I had you and Foggy pushing me forward. And Marci, too, for what that was worth,” she smirked. “And Danny and Dom and Mr. Bonner…you all were pushing me to do my best. So I tried to do so.”

“And look at you now,” he beamed. “You are the CEO of Duquesne Enterprises here in New York.”

“You aren’t doing so bad yourself, Murdock,” Jen challenged. “I hear good things coming from Columbia about you.”

“You do? How’s that work?”

“I need to know some of the law firms in the area and _occasionally_ drop your name here and there to see if it’s got any sort of reaction to it. You’ve got some big names looking at the pair of you.” She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I hear you’re pushing to the top of your class again.”

“You’ve been busy,” he nodded. “I didn’t want to bother you or boast.”

“Nah,” she shrugged. “I’ll boast all about you for you. Someone has to. You do enough boasting for me.”

Matt’s head bent down and his lips captured hers in a tender kiss. “Hi there.”

“Hello again, Mr. Murdock. Seems like you’ve missed me a bit.”

“A bit. I’ve been good though,” he smiled against her lips. “Haven’t been late to class once.”

“Good,” she looked up into his eyes. “I’d have to beat your ass if you were.”

A smug yet challenging expression took over his face. “That’d be the day. Want to put money where your mouth is?”

MacDougall replaced his hand on her arm and continued leading them down the path, head held high. “Fifty bucks says that I can land you on your ass in less than half an hour.”

“You’re on. We can head to the gym after it closes.”

 

Dinner with Foggy went by quickly and once he was sound asleep, Jen and Matt made their way out into The Kitchen and ended up at Fogwell’s. Jen paid off the custodian with Matt beside her before the older gentleman nodded and left.

“Have you been practicing?” Jen queried, wrapping tape around the insoles of her feet.

“Some,” he divulged, shedding his hoodie and sweatpants to reveal a tank-top and shorts. “Felt like you’d whoop my ass if I didn’t try to keep up.”

“That’s for sure,” she goaded while taping her fingers. “I don’t want you to go easy on me either, Murdock. I’ll know if you’re not giving me enough effort.” Jen stood once she finished and slipped out of her hoodie. Clad in a sports bra and leggings, she walked to the mat pulling her air into a messy bun with Matthew close behind.  
“Rules?”

“Anything goes,” Matt proclaimed, smug. “I can already taste the rounds of drinks you’re going to be buying me.”

“Says you,” she huffed moving into position. Matt followed suit and waited, ears attentive to her breathing. “Let’s go, hot shot. Lemme see what you’ve got.”

Matt lunged forward and wrapped a hand behind her back, but Jen rolled away from him with ease, slinking out of his grasp.  
_I have to give her credit. It’s hard to read what she’s about to do. I’ve not met someone that I misjudge so readily. My radar sense perceives her movement to do one thing and then she reacts and does something else. And when I think I have it figured out, she switches back. It’s fun and a challenge and God, she’s gotten stronger; faster.  
She’s lithe and lean with more power behind her. Excellent grappling partner. And being able to be with her isn’t so bad either._

Jen felt Matt begin pulling her into a lock, but she kicked her feet against him like a kangaroo and flipped him over her onto his back before scrambling quickly atop him to pin him to the ground. The look of surprise was enough gratification.

“Gotcha,” she panted. “I’ve been practicing.”

“I’ve noticed,” Matt breathed rubbing his backside. “My ass has noticed, too, if it’s any consolation. I haven’t landed that hard since I was a kid.. Or that quickly.”

“Consider it a friendly reminder that you can always learn and that I’m here to put you in your place when you need it,” her limbs relaxed and she sat upright on his stomach.

Matt teased, “You’re still heavy.”

“You’re a dick.”

“Guilty,” he admitted, stretching out against the mat. She leaned down from her perch and placed a kiss on his forehead. “Consolation prize?”

“Something like that,” she looked upward, thoughtful. “When you’re ready for another round, let me know.”

“As soon as my pride heals some.” When she slid off of his stomach, he pulled her down to his side and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “It might take some time.”

“Is this how you make the girls swoon over you? You bring us to the gym and ensure you can get us alone?”

“Only the ones that matter.”

“Oh, I feel so honored,” she replied kindly. Over time and with the realization that Jen wasn’t going to be leaving the picture any time soon, Matt had divulged more about his past. Details about the points in his life where Elektra was concerned were known to her. Matt frequently thanked her for not being judgmental when he spoke about his first love and she, in kind, let him know more about the things in her past she’d rather have forgotten.  
“Are you okay? I really kicked into you to flip you over.”

“I’ll be fine,” he squeezed her shoulder. “I’ve had my ass handed to me enough times.”

“Yeah, but like you say, you get back up.”

“I will. But for now, I’m fine right where I am.”

 

With the simple excuse that Jen wanted help looking for an apartment, Matt had told Foggy he was spending the night at the loft with Jen so that she could get an early start on home hunting. She had a realtor and a decent sized list of places to check out that she showed off during breakfast the day previous; it wasn’t too far of a stretch to believe Matt was just being a good Samaritan.

“What happened with Hannah?” her voice kind as she sat on the couch next to him with a drink in each hand. “With the way you talked about her, she sounded nice.”

“She is,” he nodded and took a sip from his glass. “But she is a habitual liar and thought I wouldn’t catch on.”

“I’m sorry,” she squinted, analyzing his features. His head was propped up on his fist, his face was calm and kind, and his shoulders were relaxed. “You deserve better than that.”

“Thanks,” he blinked slowly. “What about you? Did that guy pan out at all? You said you were going out for a date a few weeks ago.”

“No. We went out twice and both agreed that there wasn’t anything there,” she looked down at her glass and swirled the ice around. “He’s a nice guy and all, but not for me. Plus, with as much as I’ve been working, it wasn’t fair that I couldn’t make time.”

“You make time to call me.”

“You’re different.”

“I mean, he could have mattered enough for you to make time.”

“He didn’t.”

 

Jen had fallen asleep on his shoulder while she watched Star Wars and he listened along, remembering bits and pieces of it from his childhood. It was something kind that she did when he was over: if she watched a movie, it was always one that she knew he’d seen as a kid. He could almost remember the movie in its entirety as it played in his mind’s eye.

“Jen,” he whispered into her hair, sensing she wasn’t far enough into sleep that she couldn’t respond. She mumbled and groaned incoherently and nuzzled herself deeper into his side pulling the blanket tighter against them.  
“Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

“No,” she whined. “I don’t want to get up.”

Shimmying himself free and standing, the law student bent down, hoisted her into his arms and carried her across the loft to bed. “Come on, I’ve got you.”

“How do you know where you’re going?” she mumbled, hooking her arms around his neck.

“I can sense things in the room,” Matt replied softly, moving expertly around the loft. “Even with some new things in here.”

“That’s good,” she yawned. Matt placed her down onto the mattress and pulled the covers over her shoulders. He turned to walk away back to the couch when her small voice captured his attention.  
“Matt?”

His tone more a statement than a question, he replied, “Yeah?”

“Stay here. Please.”

“Of course.”

 

Jen walked around the vacant apartment while Matt chatted up the realtor. Closer to Chelsea than Hell’s Kitchen, the top-floor unit had plenty of natural light filtering in through the numerous windows and skylight. In the back corner, a wrought-iron, spiral staircase sat stoically that gave access to a private, rooftop patio. The exposed brick around the windows made her think fondly of her old Victorian digs in Chicago that she’d rented from Mr. Duquesne.  
It had beautifully restored floors, a renovated kitchen, and was fairly spacious for its price point. She just had to come to terms that she would be paying over three thousand dollars a month in rent.

“I’ll take it,” Jen proclaimed, looking about. Matt turned toward her, eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I like it. And it’s got the best access to transit of all of the places I’ve seen today. And it’s only a half hour to the office on The C train.”

“Wonderful!” the realtor exclaimed. “Though, we do have more luxury apartments on the list the both you and your employer provided.”

“Yeah, that’s not all me,” she chuckled, heels clicking loudly off the floor as she moved about. Jen moved to stand beside Matt and stood at the same height. “It has an elevator, working air conditioning and heat, I checked the plumbing as I was walking about and ell the electrical looks to be up to code. Plus it’s fairly quiet, all things considered.”

“You’re sure?” Matt prodded as the realtor began to grab paperwork.

“Sure,” she shrugged. “And if after six months I don’t like it, I’ll move. Not like I have a lot of stuff to move anyway.”

“Well, well, Miss MacDougall. Looks like you got an apartment.”

 

_Christmas Day_

A light dusting of snow coated the sidewalks outside last night; powdered sugar as far as the eye could see in the pale light of the early morning. Jen had slithered out from under the covers and pulled her silk robe over her naked body, eyes staring peaceably out the window, arms crossed in front of her.

Something could be said for winter in the north. You could love it or hate it, but there wasn’t really anything like it. Even if you didn’t grow up in the region, there were memories and feelings associated with what you imagined winter to be like. The tastes, smells, sounds; the way it looks and feels. Truth be told, she hated the snow but enjoyed everything else about the season.

Groggy eyes peered over her apartment and she took stock of how barren it was. Until she could go shopping after the holiday was over, Jen didn’t have a whole lot in the means of furniture. Her mattress sat on the floor of her bedroom and she had some odds and ends in the kitchen. Some of the necessities were already ordered and hadn’t arrived yet.

A rustle of fabric pulled her out of her thoughts and she peered down at her bed. Voice rough with sleep she said, “Morning.”

Bare-chested with blankets pooled at his waist, Matt stretched like a cat in all directions before stuffing his hands under his head. “Morning,” he replied with a cocky grin. “What has you awake so early?” he checked his watch under head. “It’s close to five. You could be sleeping. Better yet, you could be keeping me warm and come back to bed.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she feigned remorse, kneeling on the mattress. “I should have definitely been more thoughtful.”

“Are you alright?” he rasped, pulling her close to him.

“I’m fine, just woke up and wanted to look outside.”

“It snowed.”

She looked up and nodded, “How can you tell?”

“I’m psychic,” he joked. She snorted and jabbed him in the side. “Right. Lying. Actually…uh…it’s – it’s the air.”

She closed her eyes and focused on the air around them. “Okay. How so?”

“Well,” he frowned, “when it starts to get cold, right around freezing, it, uh…it gets harder to smell things. Scientifically it makes sense. Molecules slow down when they are cold and logically, scents attached to air molecules move slower.”

Jen pulled the corner of her mouth upward. “That’s fascinating.”

“You’re making fun of me.”

She laughed in response. “I’m _not_!” she yelped when he tickled her sides. “Honest! Matt!”

“I let you stay at our apartment until the loft was done, I stay with you at the loft so that you can sleep,” he continued his assault despite her protests. “And then I take you out to dinner last night and _still_ you make fun of me.”

“Matt!” she screeched. “I was not making fun of you!”

“Oh, I know,” he replied matter-of-factly. “But this is fun.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ve really missed this,” she rolled her eyes doing her best to roll herself in the blankets for protection. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m really not, despite your assertions,” he chuckled, relenting. “I only get to pick on you so many days a year.”

Jen pouted and squinted at him. “Goody. Now I’m going to be here full time.”

“Hey, now wait,” he protested realizing she’d stolen the blankets. “I thought you were going to keep me warm?”

“That was before you started acting like yourself instead of the charming man you made me believe you are,” she stuck her tongue out. “If you’re going to be nice, I’ll share.”

“I’m always nice.”

“That’s not convincing.” Murdock succeeded in pulling off his best sad-puppy face and Jen gave up. “You know, you make it really hard to be cross with you when you make that face.”

“Wish it would have worked as easily on the nuns as it does on you,” he teased, sliding back under the covers.

“Hmm,” she hummed quietly, wrapping herself around him and breathing him into her lungs.  
“What time are you heading over to the Nelson’s?”

“Whenever you are. I don’t have much to do today. But, while we’re on the subject of things,” he reached off the side of the mattress and produced a small box. “Here. Merry Christmas, Jen.”

She frowned and guilt nagged at her. “I thought that we weren’t exchanging gifts this year.”

“I did say that, yes,” he admitted with a wave of his hand. “However, considering everything that’s going on in your life and how everything’s coming together for you, I wanted to get you something anyway.”

“Matt. I didn’t get you anything.”

He shrugged and propped his head up on his fist. “So? That’s not the point. Open it.”

She sat up and lifted the lid to the small box gasping. A simple gold chain held a pendant slightly larger than a half dollar attached to it. An eight-pointed, gold compass rose glittered in the faint light with numerous dark blue spinels in the background and a molded, gold fleur de lys sitting above the point labeled north.

“I know how much you like old maps and if I’d had more time when Foggy and I had similar time off, I would have taken him with me to find a vintage map for you, too. But with the semester ending and _someone_ insisting that I not miss any of my classes,” he smirked, “I thought that this would be appropriate.”

“Matt, you shouldn’t have bought this. This is way more than you should have spent!”

“Yeah, well, Foggy only thinks it was fifty bucks and we went halfsies on it.”

Jen brushed her fingers over the delicate goldwork and shook her head. “Matt,” she warned.

“I didn’t break the bank or anything. But you deserve it. And no, it was a custom order so I can’t take it back; so don’t you even think about it. Flip it over.”

“Custom? Matthew Murdock,” she shoved him, then did as instructed. In beautiful script, a phrase in Latin was etched: _Nevtiqvam erro_.  
“And since my Latin is still rusty, would you kindly translate?”

“ _‘I am not lost’_ ,” Matt’s eyes smiled. When she was at a loss for words and still, he pressed further. “You’ll always know where you are even if you think you’re lost, Jen. You have this amazing ability to keep following your own compass forward and here you are.” He bobbed his head to the side, “And in case you need to be reminded, you can’t be lost if we’ve got each other’s back.”

“Mr. Murdock,” her voice trying to sound calm. “That’s rather poetic and thoughtful.” The lump in her throat felt like it was growing exponentially. “Do you know what it looks like?”

“Foggy described it to me.”

“Here,” she grabbed his fingers and placed them over the pendant. “Take a look.”

His eyes moved to and fro as his fingers were able to sense the differences in texture between metal and stone. It was true, it was a custom order; but not because of the engraving. Matt had the entire pendant made for her and had been working on it with the jeweler for three months. Having the finished product under his fingers and having the ability to tell what it looked like while hearing her heart thundering in his ears was beyond worth it.

“If you’ll permit me,” he offered, taking the necklace out of the boxing and threading the thirty-four-inch chain through his fingers for the clasp. Jen swept her hair up from her neck and he draped the pendant across her front before securing it at the base of her neck. He could sense how the chain plunged between her breasts and how the pendant hung just above her sternum.  
“Outside of being pissed at me for buying you something in the first place, do you like it?”

“I just might wear it tonight,” she chirped with her smile threading into her voice.

“I’d hope so. Foggy’d be disappointed if you didn’t wear it to dinner.”

“And maybe only this after that,” her voice husky.

“I could only hope to be so lucky.”

Jen looked over her shoulder and shot him a challenging gaze. “And what makes you think you’re the one to experience that?”

He twirled her hair around his fingers and shrugged again, “Call it a hunch. But if it’s not me, then he’s one hell of a lucky bastard.”

“Must be.”

 

The sun had set over an hour ago and Nelson’s shop smelled like a piece of heaven. The seasonal mix of spices, roasted meat, cranberries, citrus, and pine made her mouth water while she helped out in the kitchen. Matt and Foggy offered their services to Mrs. Nelson, but she waved them away happy to have Jen’s assistance.

“I see you opened your present from Foggy and Matt already,” she admired eyeing the pendant outside hanging low against Jen’s sweater. “It’s absolutely beautiful!”

“Yes, it is,” she smiled. “I wasn’t expecting anything, you know? We agreed that we wouldn’t be spending anything on each other this year.”

“You can’t blame them,” Mrs. Nelson put an assuring hand on her forearm. “You bought Matt those nice sweaters he wears all the time and you got Foggy that leather messenger bag. And they felt guilty because they didn’t get you anything last year.”

Jen got out the serving spoons and started moving things to the table. “I wasn’t here for Christmas last year, Mrs. Nelson, remember? I came over for Thanksgiving.”

“Doesn’t matter. The boys wanted to show you that you are important. “

“They do that without buying me things,” she locked eyes with her. “They don’t have to buy me things to prove it.”

“Prove what,” Matt asked coming into the kitchen and reaching for the counter.

“That you are going to be in my way if you don’t get your ass out of the kitchen,” Jen teased while taking the offered drink from his hands.

“Oh, there she is,” Matt jabbed. “I was wondering when the Grinch was going to show up.”

“Your name calling doesn’t affect me, Matthew.”

“Matt,” Mrs. Nelson chastised. “Leave her be! Go on, shoo!”

“ _Wa-hey!”_ a series of voices shouted from the storefront.

A familiar voice boomed from the front room. “Where, O where is my beastie?”

Jen stood to Matt’s left and whispered in his ear, “Did you hear them at the door?”

“Maybe,” he elbowed her. “Go on. I’ll help Mrs. Nelson.”

Jen ducked out of the kitchen and made her way to the commotion. The Nelson family was doing a fantastic job of making the Bonners and Danny feel welcome when a small, tiny body launched itself at her.  
“MACKA!”

Her strong arms hoisted the two-year-old overhead and Jen covered her cheeks with kisses. “There’s my girl. How’s JJ?”

“Good!”

“Yeah?” Jen beamed. “You know I missed you? Lots and lots! _And_ you have a birthday coming up. You’re going to be two!”

“Yeah.”

“Where’s daddy?”

JJ pointed absently behind her and cackled with delight. “I see you’ve already found my daughter. It’s near impossible to separate the two of you when you’re together,” Dom quipped, tossing his and Melissa’s coats over a chair.

“It’s not our fault that we’re magnetized to each other, right, JJ?”

“Yeah,” she barked out throwing her hands in the air.

The new CEO wrapped a free arm around Dom’s shoulders in a hug before doing the same to the rest of the family with JJ on her hip. “How was the drive over?”

“Fine,” Melissa gave a side eye to Dom. “Except we would have been here earlier had he listened to me instead of winging it on which exit we needed to take.”

Mr. Bonner roared with laughter as he made fast friends with Mr. Nelson. Danny was talking to Foggy about his college classes and gloating about how well he’d been doing since emancipating himself from their mother.

“I’m just glad you’re here safe. The Nelson’s have been planning for your arrival for some time.”

Murdock appeared and listened to the room, heart feeling light with the joy reverberating within the walls. Foggy was happier with his family about, the Bonners were excited for the camaraderie that dinner would imbue, Danny constantly gave his sister admiring glances and Jen’s breathing would catch in her throat when she caught sight of him. JJ played with the pendant between her hands and kept repeating the words, “Pretty!”

“Yes, see him?” she pointed in Matt’s direction. “He and Foggy gave it to me.”

“Him there?”

“Yep. His name is Matt. Can you say Matt?”

“MAP!” JJ squealed. “Pretty. Map!” Jen sniggered.

“I’m insulted. Even the two-year-old thinks Matt’s prettier than me.”

“That’s not what she’s saying, Fog,” Jen teased, adjusting JJ onto her other hip. “She thinks that my Christmas present is pretty. Look!” she pointed to the child examining her jewelry. “See him? That’s Foggy!”

“Pretty! Froggy!”

The jovial blonde looked to his brother roared and they both roared with laughter. JJ smiled before burying her face into Jen’s neck. “Froggy laugh loud.”

“It’s okay,” Jen smirked, patting JJ on the back. “He didn’t mean to scare you, baby girl. You’re okay. Macka has you.”

 

At dinner, Jen sat between Dom and Matt with JJ bouncing happily on her lap. An atmosphere of warmth and joviality brought her a sense of peace she’d not realized she’d missed. Her goddaughter was munching on shredded pieces of turkey from her plate and had smeared pumpkin pie all over her face. Foggy and his brother, Theo, were cracking jokes, The Bonners were chatting; and, Mr. and Mrs. Nelson sat back and beamed with pride.

“This is good,” Matt leaned into her ear.

“What’s that,” Jen asked quietly when handing JJ another piece of turkey to chomp on.

“You being happy.”

“I try to be happy all the time.”

“That’s true, but I mean…like this. Genuinely happy. Not just the fleeting moments of glee. But the underlying happiness. The kind that’s good for you.”

“Oh. I wasn’t really thinking about it, to be fair.”

“I can tell. You know. With my supersonic bat hearing.”

JJ smacked her hands against the table to a beat of her own and cackled with delight. The toddler kept trying to reach for more pie and viewed it as a game every time Jen pushed it farther out of reach.

“Is that so,” she chuckled quietly to herself. “I guess that with everyone around that matters, I’d have a reason.”

“Must be in your voice.”

“Sorry about that,” she replied sarcastically. “I’ll have to work on that. Can’t be too happy around you; you might start to think I’m a pleasant person.”

“God forbid.”

Melissa bent forward and asked loudly, “What are you two whispering about down there?”

“My sparkling personality,” Jen quipped. “And how amazing I am. And I’ve yet to spoil your baby yet.” Dom’s head tilted to the side and his eyes gave a devious, warning glare in Jen’s direction. “I told you it was coming. Besides, she still needs to open her present…though I will give you the option of having her open it at home to save you from the car ride back.”

“What did you get her,” Dom smirked.

“I’ve given you enough warning,” she bounced JJ again in her lap and kissed the crown of her head. “I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“Go on then,” Mr. Bonner prodded. “Let her open Mac’s present. Come on, Dominic.”

“Fine. But if it makes noise, she’s staying here with you.”

Foggy got up from the table and grabbed Jen’s gift, presenting it to the toddler in her lap.  
“Merry Christmas, JJ,” Jen beamed as tiny hands ripped frantically at the wrapped box to reveal a chocolate brown, stuffed bear.

Instantaneously in love, JJ buried her face into its chest and wrapped her arms tightly around it. “Bear-bear!”

Jen squeezed its paw and a small speaker inside began to play. Matt recognized it immediately as the lullaby that she was writing for JJ. He turned his head, ears focused on the recording of Jen’s humming. Through the cheers and talking, the rest of the table didn’t hear it.

“Jen,” his voice low. “It’s wonderful.”

“Thanks. I thought she’d like a bear to hold as she falls asleep.”

“I’m talking about the lullaby,” he added, hushed as if telling a secret.

“Ah,” she nodded, leaning closer. “I should have expected you to be able to hear it.”

“She loves it.”

Jen propped up a brown and glanced down at the child in her lap. “How can you tell?”

 _Endorphins are skyrocketing, her heart is beating fast and JJ’s buzzing._  
“Sometimes, I just can.”

 

_New Year’s Eve_

“Because, you’re a slut,” Jen jabbed, walking backwards and facing her Columbia boys with a quick tug on her coat.

“I am not,” Matt griped to Foggy’s amusement.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she lamented, hands in the air. “You’re right. You’re a man whore.”

“Just because I date women,” he began but was interrupted.

“Right. _Date_. A lot,” her tone sarcastic. She turned around on her heel and began frolicking her way down the block.

“You know, Slightly-Inebriated-Jen is probably one of my top five versions of Jen,” Foggy grinned.

“Why is that,” Murdock’s tone unamused.

“Because she gets brutally honest and it’s magnificent.”

“Well, next time you can be in her crosshairs and deal with her brutal honesty…and you should probably go and grab her.”

“Why?”

“Sounds like she’s trying to get on top of another car again…”

“JEN! GET DOWN! JESUS!”

 

The trio had decided to celebrate the rest of the holiday back at her apartment rather than venture anywhere near Times Square. Foggy was ordering their dinner from a food truck when Matt pulled Jen into the nearby alley.

“Something I can help you with, Mr. Murdock?” she challenged.

“Rule five.”

“What are you collecting on? I didn’t ask for anything lately.”

Matt pulled her against his body and wrapped an arm around her waist. “I did help keep you from dancing on top of _another_ car.”

She giggled, hands brushing down his black, leather jacket. “Someone was playing a good song. It’s not my fault.”

“Yes it is,” he chided, his forehead pressed to hers. Matt captured her lips in a brisk kiss and pulled away tasting rum on her tongue.

“Remember, you’re both spending the night at the apartment,” Jen warned, a kiss placed on his jaw. “You’ll have to be on your best behavior.”

“I’m always on my best behavior. You just don’t seem to notice.”

“That’s a bold-faced lie,” she frowned, pulling away from him. Jen hopped out from the alley and spied on Foggy who was paying for their food. “I should tell Foggy you’re lying to me,” her tone teasing.

“Go ahead,” he shrugged, a devilish smirk sitting on his face. “I dare you.”

Jen squinted, calculating potential responses Foggy would give and deciding if any of them were worth Matt’s aggravation.  
“You’re lucky, Murdock,” she scoffed, walking away. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Yes you are. You sleep around almost as much as I do.”

“Are you calling me a slut? Well, it takes one to know one,” she threw back over her shoulder and moved to stand next to Foggy.

Murdock inhaled deeply. The cold air burned his nose while the scents that lingered fed him information about the city and those around him.  
He blinked lazily behind his glasses and focused on the steady heartbeat of his best friend and the roar of thunder in his ears from Jen.  
_It sure does._

 

_March_

Deep vibrations could be heard and felt while he stood in the elevator. This was beyond the mechanical movement of the elevator and he focused on it, honing in to its source. A few moments passed and he realized that it changed pitch.  
_Oh…she’s practicing: her tuba finally made it here._

Fishing his keys out of his pocket, he quietly unlocked her apartment door and entered. “Jen?” With practiced precision, he tossed his keys onto her kitchen counter and set his folded cane and glasses beside them.

“In the office,” she hollered. When he appeared in her doorway, she beamed. “Guess. What.”

“Uh, you’ve taken up underwater basket weaving and you’re going to turn this room into a pool?”

“Hysterical,” she quipped with an eyeroll. “No, come here. Give me your hand.”

Matt stepped forward, hand outstretched, and let Jen guide him to the instrument in her lap. The metal was cool under his fingertips and he could smell a mixture of oil and grease coming from some of the piping. The edge of the bell had an ornamental pattern of engravings that felt art deco in nature. She moved his hands to the valves and the rotor and let him have the time to explore the instrument.

“It’s bigger than I expected,” he admitted kneeling beside her.

It’s a five-quarter tuba; it’s on the bigger side. My mother ended up purchasing it because she expected me to play professionally in a symphony or something. It’s a Miraphone…not that it means anything to you, but it’s an amazing instrument.”

“How much did it set your mother back?”

“Fifteen thousand, if memory serves.”

“Jesus!”

“I know. I half expected her to try and come collect it, but as of yet, that hasn’t happened. Now that I’m here and she doesn’t know where I am in New York, I think it’s safe.”

“Were you practicing?”

“I was. Do you want to hear some? I mean, keep in mind I haven’t had it since December.”

“Sure,” he nodded and smiled. “What are you playing?”

Jen rapped on her valves and blew warm air though the instrument. “It’s a concerto that I was working on back in Chicago. One of the minor symphonic groups wanted me to play it with them as a featured soloist, but I ended up moving out here first. I was practicing with a click track, but I can play the accompaniment with it so that you can hear what it sounds like if you want.”

“Alright, yeah. That’d be great. This is cool.”

“Okay, so this is the Vaughan Williams Concerto. The whole thing is like, I dunno…twelve minutes or something…so I’ll play the first movement. Now, give me your hand again and have a sit down on the floor. Sorry I don’t have…another chair,” she stretched over to her laptop and typed something singlehandedly. “There. Now, put your hand here and you’ll be able to feel it on the tuba, too.”

The strings opened with something simple and he felt Jen’s body chamber differently. When she breathed, it was as if she was taking all of the air out of the room and he wondered if playing is what helped her with her stamina on the mat. The opening lines for her instrument moved quickly and her fingers depressed each valve effortlessly with every note.

_Her heart, the flooding of endorphins, the way air tastes when she’s near, how heat radiates off of her; how her body responds to what she feels and hears. These things make up so much of who she is and she’s been away from it for some time…and she’s almost totally at peace. The music playing from her speakers, the sound booming from her tuba and the thunder in her heart: that’s a symphony I could listen to all day._

 

 

_April_

The office was bright, natural light filtering in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Light gray walls painted to look like slate were a nice contrast to the wooden desk and chairs that took up floor space while accents of blue and green were scattered around the room.

The desk phone rang twice before the woman behind it looked at the ID and pressed for the speaker. “Hi, Tia. What can I do for you?”

“ _You know, Miss MacDougall, I’m your assistant. I’m supposed to do things for you. That’s my job.”_

“I know,” she chuckled, setting her pen down and sitting upright. “Doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate it or wouldn’t pay that back in kind.”

“ _Well, thank you. You worked through lunch, again.”_

Jen checked her watch and sighed. “I suppose I did. I have a frozen dinner…thing…in my fridge. I can heat that up.”

“ _You do realize we run a restaurant, right?”_

“Yes, I know. But I feel guilty sometimes when I call down and order. Especially when the crew is busy prepping for the next service. It’s alright, Tia, really.”

_“Nope. That won’t do. Lunch was ordered and delivered, just in case. Do you care if I send them in?”_

Jen stood, stretched, and nodded to herself. “Thanks. I owe you one. Send them in.”

A few moments later, the door swung open while Jen was fishing for a cash tip in her wallet.  
“Thank you for coming,” her focus still on her wallet. “My assistant ordered lunch for me knowing I was going to work through it again. If you give me a moment, I have your tip.”

“Well, that’s not the kind of welcome I was expecting,” a warm voice rang in her hear. “But I’ll take the tip all the same.” Jen stood and turned to find Matt standing in the middle of her office with a brown bag in one hand and his cane in the other.  
“I mean, the traffic was absolute hell.”

“Look what the cat dragged in,” she grinned, moving to take the bag from him and place a quick kiss on his cheek. “Remember your way around?”

“So long as you haven’t moved much of anything, yes,” both of his hands now free to fold his cane.

“This was unexpected,” she opened the bag and was overcome with delight. Her mouth watered and her stomach growled loudly in anticipation from the smell of her favorite Chinese food filling her nose. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he nodded. “When I called this morning, your assistant had a feeling that you were going to power through your work today and feared you wouldn’t stop to eat. I told her that I could make you have time.”

“ _Make me_? Since when do you make me do anything?”

“Lots of times. But if you’re going to be like that, then I’ll just take the food and go share it with Foggy instead.”

“Now wait,” she implored, pulling a seat out for him. “Your dickishness is showing.”

“I’m in law school, Jen. I thought that was a given thing,” he sat and began pulling food out of the bag.

“Hmpf,” she snorted to herself.

A cocky grin spread across his face. “Four months in, seems like you’re doing well.”

“I hope so. They haven’t fired me yet,” she joked. A cognizance overcame her and Jen quipped a brow up.  
“Does Bri know you’re here?”

“No, and it’s none of her business,” he asserted.

“Matt,” she shook her head, tone exasperated. “She was nice. And could have been good for you.”

“Why do you assume that I broke up with her?”

“I’d like to present Rule Two and Rule Six into light.”

“I didn’t do anything stupid,” he nodded, taking his glasses off and setting them on the table. Jen began to eat her lunch and he took her silence as an invitation to continue. “She’s the one that started talking about getting married and engaged two days ago.”

“Yikes,” Jen replied, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. “After how long?”

“Just over a month,” he motioned with his hand before resting it on his knee. “Like…whoa. Hold your horses.”

“Fair point, but I think had you two talked about it and how that doesn’t necessarily settle well with you at present, I think she could have understood.”

“We weren’t all that compatible, to be fair.”

“Seriously? You said she was great in bed and didn’t ask a lot of questions about you being blind. I thought that was the dream girl as far as you’re concerned.”

Matt paused and leaned back in his chair. “I might need someone who is going to ask some questions and know how to deal with my bullshit.”

“That just goes to prove my point,” Jen smirked, his expression of confusion giving her a vindictive sense of joy.  
“You don’t know exactly what you want, but you want everything and nothing simultaneously.”

“Ouch,” his hand moved to his heart. “That almost makes me not want to be friends.”

“ _Almost_ ,” she repeated, pointing her fork at him. “My brutality keeps you coming back for more, you masochist.” Matt grinned and went back to eating. “I have almost the entire quarter’s report up-to-date, was able to reconcile six accounts, ensured that the budget’s balanced and phoned into Mr. Duquesne today. I should be able to actually have a social life this weekend.”

“That’s impressive. I went to my classes…on time, called your assistant and got you lunch, made my way over here through laborious conditions and now here I am.”

“How was class?”

“One more week before the finals and I finished writing my Legal Research paper yesterday; turned it in this morning. I think I’m doing okay.”

“Okay? Matt, you’re blasting everyone out of the water. I’m very proud of you.”

“Thanks. What are you doing after work?”

Again, a brow peaked upward at his remark. “Are you seriously trying to take me out after you broke up with Bri this week?”

“Not because I broke up with her, no. I’m asking if you’ll go out with me tonight.”

“You know that usually means that you’re coming to my place after,” her tone leading, tossing her now empty container back into the bag.

Matt feigned innocence and did his best to not emote. “That’s beside the point. I happen to enjoy going out with you.”

“Do you,” she leaned back with calculating eyes on his features. “Mr. Murdock, you said that she was amazing.”

“She was. Once. But I’m guessing you want sex potentially as bad I do. It’s been a while since you scratched that itch.”

“How do you know that I didn’t sleep with someone since January? I don’t tell you everything.”

“Just about everything. Alright then, tell me.”

Her heart rattled against her ribs, mouth dry. “His name was Santiago.”

Matt smirked, leaning forward to wrap a finger around the chain holding her compass pendant. “Liar.”

 _God damn it, Matt. How…how is it every time…you just fucking know? Do I make it that obvious in my voice? Oooh…but look at him. Sleeves rolled to his elbow, collar unbuttoned…and that damn face of his. He knew exactly what he was doing by bringing me lunch today. He did this on purpose. And Christ Almighty, I’d take him on this table right now if I knew I wouldn’t be interrupted._  
“I’m done at six-thirty. Best not be late, Mr. Murdock.”

 

_November_

The air was cool, nipping at her nose and toes exposed from under the blanket. The fading light mingled with the cloud cover to set a gray hue over the city. Hands wrapped around the warm mug in her lap, numbness creeping into her fingertips. As Jen sipped her chai from the comfort of her patio, her mind wandered back to her biological family and how she was able to be fairly sane in comparison to some of the horrors she’d faced.

Heavy steps on the wrought iron steps drew her from her mind and she recognized their weight and gait.  
“Uh-huh. What happened,” a familiar voice announced, the door closing behind him.

“Nothing,” she replied, patting on the couch cushion to let him know there was space.

He pocketed his key to her apartment and crossed his arms. “Nothing? Doesn’t smell like nothing.”

“What does _not nothing_ smell like?” she asked with a lilt in her voice.

Murdock moved with minimal effort to the couch and sat down, a finger moving to tap on her mug. “That. You seem to only make it when something is bothering you. If you order it at a coffee shop, it’s not a big deal. But when you make it…something’s up.”

“Observant,” she nodded. Jen wrapped part of the blanket around his shoulders and placed her drink on the table.  
“She called again.”

“Thought so.”

“Did you, now?”

“Well, yeah. And Danny called me to give me a head’s up. He said that he tried calling you but your line was busy. Guess you were talking to your mother at that point.”

“Probably. She still hates me,” Jen divulged, wringing her hands.

“Why do you answer the phone when you know what’s coming on the other end of the line?” he asked, hanging his glasses on his shirt. “Every time she calls, you answer the phone and every time she makes you feel like this.”

“I guess I was just trying to be optimistic about something, you know? One thing in all the shit that was my growing up. That one day, she’s going to call and say that she’s sorry. That she wants to be forgiven for all of it. But at present, she calls to rage at me and threaten me,” she shrugged. “Take it as I can get it, I suppose.”

“Would you forgive her?”

“It’s in our moral compass to forgive.”

Matt nodded and shrugged. “Doesn’t mean that we do it so readily.”

“I dunno,” Jen sighed, staring out at the city skyline. “I should. Just not forget it, you know? Forgive and forget’s not really my thing.”

“What else is bothering you,” Matt’s ears picking up on a heaviness in her tone. “You can tell me.”

“I could. But you’ll get mad.”

“Rule Two.”

“Seriously?”

Matt leaned back and pulled her into his shoulder. “Yep. Come on; be honest…I’m all ears. Tell me what else is bothering you.”

“Pete.”

“Why? You guys have been dating for five months or so now…what happened? Is he mad that we keep training together? Did you two have a fight?”

She winced, “You could say that.”

Matt stilled and turned his head in her direction. “Why,” his tone dark. “Jennifer, what happened…tell me, now.”

“I was stupid; didn’t see it coming…” she bit her lip. Matt didn’t move, save for the muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. She could feel tension radiating through his body, but she continued.  
“We were arguing over having you and Foggy over for Thanksgiving at some point through the day if you two weren’t going to the Nelson’s. He didn’t want you guys over at all. …said that it wasn’t worth the fuss. I began explaining…you know…that the two of you are my family…and that I wanted to spend time with you both on the holiday at some point.”

Knuckles had turned white and the faint sound of taut muscle and tendon creaked in Jen’s ears. She placed her hands around his in an effort to try and calm him, but he was having none of it. “Jennifer.”

“He tried to backhand me. Tried being the operative word in that sentence,” she nodded, her hands physically trying their best to comfort and soothe his raging temper. “I ended up shoving him into the wall, opening the door, and spartan kicking him out of my apartment. Told him not to come back.”

His voice shook, “When was this?”

“I took care of it.”

“When.”

“Matthew, I took care of it. And it was almost two weeks ago,” her voice stern. “If you’ve got it in your head to go and wail on him, you have another thing coming. I won’t let you because I can’t afford for you to go off in a rage and get sloppy.”

“ _Two weeks?_ And you didn’t call me to let me know!? Is that why you weren’t coming to the gym?!”

The CEO frowned and stiffened. “You’re doing a fine job of _not_ acting the way I thought you would. It’s been dealt with. He’s gone. And now I’ve told you about it.”

“I thought we agreed to have each other’s backs!”

She forced his hand open and held it between both of hers, pivoting to face him. “We do. I can’t have you fighting all of my battles for me. Every so often? Sure. I’ll tag you in. But that was something I had to do on my own.”  
“I look back on who I was and my heart shatters because I spent so long asking why and how I wasn’t good enough as a person…how something like that could have happened to me and why I wasn’t worth it…but…that’s not me…Not as much…not anymore. I picked up every single one of those shards, and even as they shredded my hands, I pieced my heart back together. It is fractured, it is broken, it is imperfect…but it’s whole.”  
“You helped push me to do that. That’s what family’s for. Real family. Not the bullshit we read about…about how wonderful everything is. No. The family that fights and cries and screams because we want what’s best and we’re all too stubborn to see it at times…that’s the family I need. So do you.”  
“So you can be mad at me. That’s fine. I’ll take your ire and deal with it. Know that I’m aware that I’d be feeling the same if our roles were reversed.”

“Hmm,” he nodded and relaxed some. “Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

“Don’t expect you to be,” she leaned back and pressed into his side. “But you can’t fight every battle I’ll have. Just like you said I can’t fight every person who shows prejudice against your being blind. We have limitations, dear.”

“You should have told me sooner.”

“I’ll give you that. But I didn’t want you getting this upset. I took care of it.”

“Hope you made him hurt.”

“That’s not very Catholic of you.”

“I didn’t say that I hope you killed him.”

“No, you didn’t,” she pondered. “But I definitely heard a crack when I kicked him. Probably one or two ribs.”

“Good,” he nodded, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I’d hate for you to have thrown him out without him learning a lesson.”

“Speaking of, how was class?”

 

* _Knock knock knock*_

The door before him opened and he could sense Pete was standoffish. “What do you want?”  
Pete was about the same size as him, with the exception he was slightly stockier. Heat was radiating off him in waves and he could smell the pot he’d smoked earlier in the day on his skin.

Matt’s tone matched the darkness in his thoughts. “You ever, _ever_ lay a hand on her again, you won’t be able to use your hands again. Jen has busted her ass to get where she is and what she’s got. Stay away from her.”

“Pfft,” Pete groaned. “I don’t know what that bitch told you, but she’s crazy. Case and point: she sent a blind guy to try and intimidate me.”

Matt’s left hand arced neatly through the air and his knuckles dug Pete’s jaw. “You don’t talk about her! You don’t think about her! You stay the hell away from her,” he yelled, kicking him into his apartment, “or so help me, God…you ill wish you’d never met her.”

“You’re fucking insane!” Pete cried from across the floor of his apartment.

“I might be,” Matt huffed, adjusting his tie. “But no one is going to believe that you just got your ass handed to you by a blind man…so, stay away from her.”

As quickly and quietly as he had appeared at the apartment, Murdock left without a sound and Pete was left to writhe in pain and embarrassment in the middle of his floor.


	22. What I Know So Well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I just wrote chapters 24-26 and there's some darling, cute, aww stuff coming your way._  
>  Which hopefully makes up for this one.
> 
>  
> 
> _Those of you that may have caught some of the foreshadowing in the Prologue might have realized this was coming._   
>    
>  __

_January; Thursday_

Bitter wind cut through Jen’s jacket and her leather gloves did little to shield her from the plunging temperatures. New York had been in the grip of subzero temperatures for a week, keeping many indoors once the sun had begun to go down.

Danny and the Bonner clan had come back to the city to spend a long weekend celebrating a late Christmas and New Year’s holiday with Jennifer. Having spent most of the day cooped up indoors, Danny had convinced everyone that they needed to go out after he had proudly nabbed a table at the Duquesne restaurant, _Taula_.

“I know that you probably eat there all the time,” Danny defended, “but I really, _really_ want to try out Taula. They were just featured in one of those fancy cooking magazines. I saw it on my campus and got really excited.”

“Alright, alright,” Jen conceded with a smile. “To be fair, I really don’t eat there all of the time. It makes the meals I do get more special. What time’s the reservation for?”

 

The SUV that the Bonners rented for the drive was large enough to accommodate the five adults and JJ, though it was a tight squeeze to get the three year old situated in her car seat. Jen ended partially sitting on her brother’s lap. Uncomfortable, Jen fired off a text.

 

_To:  Foggy; Matthew_

_If you would have asked me if I_  
_knew that I was getting into an_  
_overcrowded SUV with a slightly_  
_inebriated Melissa and Mr. Bonner_  
_as we make our way to Taula for_  
_dinner, I would have said no._

_Fuck. It’s cold._

_To:  Mac-Attack; Matt_

_WHY ARE YOU GUYS GOING OUT_  
_IN THIS? THIS WEATHER IS SOME_  
_GRADE A+ CRAP._

 _also…when does your niece get_  
_to see Froggy? Or Map-Map?_

_To:  Foggy; Matthew_

_We can do brunch at my place_  
_Saturday if you want. She’s been_  
_asking for you both. By name._  
_Without my prompting._

_To:  Jen; Foggy_

_It’s because we’re the real_  
_favorites._

_To:  Mac-Attack; Matt_

_You better be careful, buddy. Jen’s_  
_territorial about few things in life._  
_Us. And that baby._  
_Them be fightin words._

_To:  Foggy; Matthew_

_You’re dead to me._

_To:  Jen; Foggy_

_Truth hurts._

_To:  Foggy; Matthew_

_I’m poisoning some of the food_  
_tomorrow. Won’t tell what’s not_  
_safe. Let’s play a game of Russian_  
_Roulette.  BUT WITH FOOD!!!_

_To:  Mac-Attack; Matt_

_Way to go, ass hat. You’ve ruined_  
_everything!_

_To:  Jen_

_When do I get to see you? It feels_  
_like you’ve  been purposely_  
_avoiding me. I haven’t been_  
_insulted in nearly three weeks. I’m_  
_hurt and slightly offended._

_To:  Matthew_

_Oh, I’m sorry. Did ol’ whats-her-face_  
_not pan out?_  
_Again._

_To:  Foggy; Matthew_

_That’s what you get for thinking_  
_you could even compete with this_  
_greatness. Long live the queen,_  
_baby._

_To: Jen_

_I mean…yes. That’s beside the_  
_point._

_To:  Matthew_

_What, no dinner or faux date this_  
_time?_

_To:  Jen_

_I’ll have you know that there are_  
_people in this library who were_  
_probably giving me dirty looks_  
_before I took my phone outside._  
_Voice-to-text can be a pain in the_  
_ass._

_To:  Matthew_

_So can you, but that just comes_  
_with the territory. I’ve learned that_  
_it comes with you as a package_  
_deal._

_To:  Mac-Attack; Matt_

_Why do I have to get poisoned? I_  
_didn’t do anything this time._

_I’m the loveable one! Seriously._

_To:  Jen_

_Ouch. There’s that MacDougall_  
_charm._

 _If you took Monday off like I think_  
_you did, I can pick you up Sunday_  
_night for the not-date around six._  
_Your pick this time._

“Who are you texting so furiously back there?” Dom’s eye spied a glance in the rearview mirror.

“The boys,” she quipped nonchalantly. “They want to see you all before you head back, so I’m trying to arrange brunch at my place…but Matt just made the assertion that they’re JJ’s favorite and I will not stand for _that_ nonsense.”

Mr. Bonner chuckled quietly and continued playing with JJ in her car seat. “Seems like someone’s trying to get you all riled up, kiddo.”

“Pfft,” she rolled her eyes. “I just have to assert my dominance and authority. I told them both that I was poisoning something at breakfast and wouldn’t tell them what.”

Turning around in her seat, Melissa looked to her daughter and asked happily, “Do you want to see Foggy and Matt tomorrow?”

“FROGGY! MAP-MAP!” the toddler screeched.

 

_To:  Matthew_

_A side note: Sorry I haven’t been_  
_super outgoing as of late._  
_Between work and my mother calling_  
_again…I isolated myself a bit._  
_sorry._

_To: Jen_

_If you don’t want to go out, we can_  
_just stay in and talk. We haven’t_  
_had one of those kind of talks in a_  
_while._

_To:  Foggy; Matthew_

_You are the loveable one._  
_Obviously._

 _Innocent bystander. Sucks, broski._  
_Love you, Fog._

_To:  Matthew_

_Also an option._

_To:  Jen_

_Call me when they leave or go to_  
_bed. Just want to know you’re_  
_home safe._

 _We can talk about tomorrow if you_  
_aren’t too tired. Go out. Have fun._  
_Enjoy them while they’re here._

_To:  Matthew_

_You’re the boss._

_Danny’s staying with me and the_  
_Bonners are staying with Melissa’s_  
_aunt and uncle again._

 _It might be late when I get them_  
_where they need to go._

_To:  Jen_

_And when has that ever been an_  
_issue?_

_Call me later._

 

“You should have invited them to dinner, Danny,” Dom announced. “We would have had a ball!”

“Aw, I should’ve…they’re so funny and –“

_Ringing._

_Nothing else but the ringing you hear in the movies when a G.I. get hit by rocket or a bomb. It’s high pitched and encompassing. I roll over on the cold pavement and I think it odd. I was in the car…how did I get out of the car?_

_As I sit up, my head is pounding and my vision starts swimming. It’s worse than any migraine I’ve ever had and my body feels numb. Something in the back of my mind tells me to look down at my right arm, so I do. There’s blood coursing freely down my forearm, dripping and pooling on the black pavement; I keep thinking that the blood  almost looks like obsidian in the dark. Where’s my sleeve?_  
_But there’s something wrong. It’s not completely dark, there’s a flickering orange light behind me reflecting against the dark pool at my fingertips._

_I whip around quickly, nearly falling over and realize I’m scrambling toward the light even though I can’t really focus on it._

_JJ...JJ. Where is she? Where’s JJ? I keep telling myself that I need to find JJ. Once I get closer, a macabre sense of horror fills my gut and I feel cold: the car has flipped over somehow and it’s on fire._

_Before I can comprehend, my right hand is driving into the rear window over and over again. I need to get JJ. If my hand hurts, I can’t tell. My hands get to ripping at the cracked glass, doing my best to peel it away and I shove myself into the window and find her still strapped in her car seat._

_Fingers don’t want to work, slick with blood; I guess that’s what I get for shredding them open on automotive glass. The ringing still hasn’t stopped and I feel like I’m telling JJ it’s going to be okay, but she’s crying. She’s crying. I can see her. Danny was beside me in the car and he’s not moving. I try calling to him and shaking him to help me but he doesn’t move…so I call out to Dom and Melissa in the front. They aren’t moving either. But I can feel the fire all of the sudden. It’s so hot._

_I finally free her and after what feels like years, her harness releases and I have her. Glass is digging into me. I know it is. It has to be. But I need to get her out. The fire’s getting hotter. Shimmying this way and that, I do my best to make sure my goddaughter doesn’t touch the glass, but I’m dizzy. I’m probably going to pass out._

_I scream for help, cradling JJ close to me, crawling away from the wreck. I don’t know if anyone can hear me. I can’t hear anything. I can’t really see anymore. But I got her. I got JJ. I got her out. I want to go back for Dom. For Danny._  
_I need to._

_Someone appears as a blurred figure in my sight line. I tell them I can’t hear. I tell them there are people still in the car. I tell them to call 911. I feel it…the numbness creeping into my mind. “Hold on to her,” I tell myself. And I do. I’ve got her pressed to my chest and wrapped in what’s left of my coat._

_Won’t someone help? Help! Someone! Anyone! Matt? I need him. Help!_

_And then, nothing._

_Everything._

_Oblivion._

 

_Friday_

“Excuse me,” Foggy leaned over the counter at the nurses’ station, voice frantic. “We got a phone call about our friend that’s here. MacDougall…Jennifer…”

Murdock’s grip tightened on Foggy’s arm while he sent his senses into overdrive in an attempt to locate her faster. A faint rumble of thunder behind his left shoulder made him focus in that direction, sensing through walls and conversations for her.

“Thank you,” Foggy replied before spinning on his heel. “Matt, let’s go. She’s at the end of this hallway in 319.”

Their brisk strides had the duo inside her room within moments and there, Matt could hear, Foggy’s heartbeat changed and his breathing hitched. The radar-sense he was accustomed to using mapped out the room readily and painted an image in his mind’s eye.  
Her heart wasn’t booming in his ears like normal and he could detect the sedative they used lingering in the air, as well as the various antiseptic ointments, tape, gauze, and the overwhelming smell of copper.  
_She was bleeding._

“Foggy,” Matt lead quietly. “Tell me.”

He swallowed hard, “She’s…umm…she’s real banged up, Matt…” Tears began to well in his eyes and he cleared his throat. “Her hands are bandaged up to her forearms, her face is puffy…her uh…right ear is bandaged over…and that’s all I can see…”  
“She doesn’t look good.”

Externally, her injuries seemed to pale in comparison to what he could hear from the internal damage.  
_She’s breathing on her own, which is a God send; but the pain she must have been feeling before she got to the hospital must have been immense. Two broken ribs, hairline fractures in three more…something’s wrong with her heart…she’s trying to wake up. She’s fighting it.  
Where’s everyone else?_

“Foggy, I’ll stay with her…but would you go and get some coffee…and ask the desk where the Bonners and Danny are?”

“Sure…yeah,” he wiped his face roughly and straightened up. “God knows she’s going to be asking as soon as she wakes up.”

“Yeah,” Matt nearly whispered. “Thanks, man.”

Once his best friend left the room, he collapsed his cane and sat on the edge on her bed, hands hovering over her extremities. He noted that her ankle was swollen, so were both of her knees, and her hands were far warmer than usual.

“Jen,” he lamented, hanging his glasses off his shirt. “I’m so sorry. But I’m here. If you can hear me…I’m here. Foggy, too. I’ve got you.”  
“You’re hurting. I don’t know what happened yet…they said there was an accident. But you got out and they called because you have us two bozos as your emergency contacts in your phone.”

His fingertips sat idly atop her exposed knuckles, willing any strength he could to her through the contact when he heard Foggy return to the desk with coffees in hand.

_“Yes, um…our friend, in 319…the vehicle she was in had her brother and a family in it that she was very close to. Are you permitted to tell me what rooms they’re in? I can give you names and descriptions if you’d like.”_

_“I’m sorry,”_ the nurse replies. _“We’re trying to track down next of kin. Do you know if there is any one that we can call?”_

Matt heard the hushed murmurs from other doctors and nurses as they observed the conversation between Nelson and the head nurse as if they were in the room whispering.

_“Oh, Jesus…he’s here for 319…I saw another guy come in, too…must be in the room with her.”  
“ Hey…the older male…did he make it?”_

_“No. D.O.A. ER said that there wasn’t anything that they could do for him.”_

_“Shit. Did you hear anything else from anyone down there?”_

_“Yeah, the driver and other female passenger are still in surgery. Ruiz said that part of the engine was in her chest.”_

_“Look at this guy…he’s barely holding it together. Must have been close to the people in the car.”_

_“I don’t want to be here when…especially after…well, the EMTs said that they found 319 holding the kid; she apparently went back and pulled her out of the car.”_

Reining his senses back, he felt the air rush from his lungs and his stomach plummet. The inane mechanical sounds of the hospital equipment filled his mind as he tried to focus on not being ill.  
_Where’s JJ?_

 

“Thank you for helping us notify the family. They’re on their way,” the attending nodded, writing on Jen’s chart. “The powers that be wanted me to pass along their thanks.” Matt lifted his head in a subtle nod, not moving from Jen’s side. “Look, you guys have been here for four hours. We can call you once she wakes up.”

“She’s waking up,” Matt replied quietly. Foggy was sound asleep in the other chair near the door. “I know she is. I have to be here when she does. I’m not going anywhere. She’d do the same for me.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“Positive. Without hesitation. She’s too stubborn to stay down.”

She nodded again in understanding, checked Jen’s saline and morphine drips, then exited the room quietly.

 

“Hey, hey…it’s – it’s okay, Jen…I’m here,” Matt did his best to soothe Jen as her eyes fluttered open. “You’re in the hospital and they’ve given you some pain medication. Try not to move around too much, alright? You’re okay.”  
He could hear Foggy stir and nearly fall out of his chair once Nelson had realized she was awake.

“Mac! Thank God you’re awake!”

“Wh…mmm,” she mumbled, a brow furrowed in concentration and a bandaged hand reaching for her ear.

“Take your time,” Matt instructed, relief flooding him when her fingers wrapped around his. “I know you just woke up, but you need to rest.”

“I’m going to go let them know you’re awake. Your doctor wants to talk to you,” Foggy nodded and darted out of the room.

Her voice was hoarse and fatigued. “Matt…”

“I’m here. I have you,” his head cocked in her direction. “I’m glad you’re here. It could have been so much worse.”

“Matt…” she repeated, pulling at his hand. He cocked his head to the side and registered how her heart was beating faster.

“What’s wrong? Tell me so that I can help you.”

“I – I can’t hear…it’s so quiet…I can barely hear…anything,” she winced, squinting at his face. “I can read your lips but…I can’t hear…” Tears welled in her eyes and Matt leaned over her, wrapping an arm carefully around her.

He pulled away and faced her, articulating slower, “The doctor said you hit your head pretty hard and that your ear suffered some trauma. Okay? You will get through whatever this is.”  
“But I need you to promise me that you’ll take it easy and heal.”

“Okay.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Foggy and Doctor Saheed entered the room, Foggy opting to stand next to Matt while the physician moved to the other side of the hospital bed.  
“Jennifer, how are you feeling?”

“Rough,” Jen blinked slowly, motioning for the water on her side table. Foggy grabbed it for her and handed it over. “Like I was hit by a bus. It’s…uh…hard to hear.”

“You very nearly were and that’s to be expected,” the doctor replied, crossing her arms over her clipboard. “You were ejected out of the vehicle. You have abrasions from road rash on your right shoulder and your head took a nasty hit when you hit the pavement.”  
“Do you remember what happened?”

_Oh…Jen…no…_

“We were going to dinner,” she nodded, a hand bracing her forehead. “The Bonners, Danny and I…where are they…when can I see them?”

Dr. Saheed stiffened, “You’re in no shape to go moving about at this point. You have fractured ribs, sprained joints in both of your legs, we don’t know if you have damage to your shoulder yet until the swelling goes down, and your hands had to be stitched up due to lacerations from the crash.”

“My hands weren’t from the crash,” her tone growing sharp. “I needed to get my goddaughter out of the car. It was on fire…” her eyes danced back and forth as she pieced the memory back together. “I punched out the back window to get her and started peeling the glass back so I could get to her…where is she? Where is her father and mother? He’s one of my best friends. And Danny…where’s my brother?”

“Jennifer,” Dr. Saheed cautioned. “You need to calm down.”

“I will be calm when you tell me where the hell my family is!” she shouted, eyes boring a hole into the doctor. “Now!”

“Jen,” Matt placed a hand on her arm, causing her to snap her head in his direction. “You need to be calm because of your heart.”  The doctor looked bewildered at his assertion and he felt the change in her demeanor. “I heard someone outside talking about it.”

“Look,” the doctor shook her head. “You suffered a myocardial contusion; this means that whatever your torso hit when you were shot out of the car caused you to bruise your heart. Your heart is beating faster than normal and thanks to your friends, we know what your resting heartrate usually is to compare it to. You’re going to need to stay in the hospital for some time so we can monitor the potential of the injury. If it goes unchecked, you could suffer cardiac arrest.”

Jen tried to focus on everything the doctor was telling her, but she was talking fast enough that she didn’t catch everything and it was sending her into a panic.

“Jen,” he sat on the edge of the bed and squeezed her hand gently. “You hurt your heart in the crash. You need to take it easy. You promised.”

“Okay,” she huffed, doing her best to slow her breathing. “But I want to know how my family is.”

Foggy’s hands scrubbed his face and ran backward through his hair. “She deserves to know.”

“What did he say?” she looked at Matt. Bells of alarm rang loudly in her mind when he bowed his head down away from her.  
“Tell me,” she snapped. “Tell me now. Matthew!”

The doctor pressed her thumb into the nurse’s button on the bed and waited a moment before continuing. When the nurse appeared, she stated, “I need ten milligrams of ketamine for the patient now, and then a one milligram solution added to a fresh bag of saline on her as soon as possible.”  
“Jennifer, as soon as they administer your medication, I will tell you. Do we have a deal?”

Jen scowled, “Fine. Why do I need ketamine?”

“You do.”  
The nurse reappeared and slowly injected the syringe’s contents into her IV and then replaced the bag on the IV pole.

“The ketamine is for you because it won’t affect your heart as much as other sedatives and you will need it.”

Jen began to feel the heaviness of sleep pull at her. “I don’t understand…”

“Stan Bonner was brought to the hospital. He didn’t survive the crash.”

Jen began to cry out in protest, but Matt moved closer to her and wrapped his arms around her. “But I saw him!”

“Melissa Coleman, the front passenger, is in intensive care following her surgery. She’s in critical condition, but they hope that, with the surgery, she’ll be stable in a week.”  
“The driver, identified as Dominic Bonner, was brought to us in critical condition and despite our emergency team’s best efforts, they weren’t able to stabilize him in time and he passed on.”

Foggy stood in silence, anguished, while Matt ran his hand over her hair and pressed her tight against him trying to reach the hole he felt growing in her heart. “Jen, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispered, fighting the tears in his eyes and the lump in his throat.

“No,” she blinked and nodded. “This is a dream. I’m in a coma or something and – and this is bullshit. This is me tormenting myself with one of the worst things I can think up. I just want to wake up and find them. Okay? I’m drugged. Obviously.” Jen tried reasoning with herself as the medication began to take hold of her. “I’m going to wake up and everything’s going to be fine. Or I’ll be dead and they’re okay…”

“Daniel MacDougall didn’t make it through surgery,” the doctor continued.

“You’re – you’re telling me…that they…” she choked. “They are gone?” Jen turned to look at Foggy since Matt was hiding his face from her. “No…Foggy…please, no,” her lip quivered and he broke.

He wiped his tears on the back of his hand, “Mac. I’m so sorry. They tried everything…”

“Where’s JJ? I godder oudda the car, she was…mmm-crying and I godder out,” her words jumbling together, frantic. “She ‘as fine. Where…”  
Matt peeled back and looked in her direction, his face morose despite every effort to hide his sadness.  
“What good’re you?!” she shouted, shoving at him. “Bat hearing! Go find’er!”

“Mac,” Foggy cried out, compelling his voice to carry over hers. “Stop!”

Her heart was beating wildly in her chest forcing the sedative to move faster in her bloodstream. Without thinking, her hands began to beat against Matt’s chest, hot streaks shot down her cheeks and her mouth twisted in agony.  
“Where is she?!”

The shriek that rang out in the room wasn’t one of sadness. It’s too simple of a word. But suffering, affliction, desperation, torment and grief; Foggy collapsed into the chair. He didn’t know what to do. The doctor stood patiently while Matt cradled the form that looked like Mac against him until she had succumb to sleep before the doctor had told her what happened to her goddaughter.

The law student set her back into her pillows and wiped his face, heart heavy in misery. “What now?”

“She’ll be asleep for three or so hours. I suggest that the two of you get some rest before she wakes up. We have a room here that you can use with beds if you insist on staying here. Since she’s labeled you as next of kin, she’s going to need help and potentially some therapy for all of this. I can give her names of grief counselors that we recommend.”  
“Her body will heal. There’s evidence of that and you’ve stated that she’s a fighter. But, her mind is going to need some time. She’ll need you both to help her through this.”  
The doctor moved to the door and held it open for a moment, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

 

It was late, and as much as it was able, the floor that they were on was fairly quiet in comparison to other parts of the hospital. Usually, hospitals were traps for Matt; the number of sounds, smells, and the feeling of all of the equipment buzzing and humming around him was often too much to bear for extended periods of time.

Truth be told, he hadn’t slept much in the time that they’d been at the hospital. It wasn’t just the hospital that was keeping him up; his ear continuously drifted down the hallway to Jen’s room. In the last hour, she’d begun to grow restless as she fought her way out of her medically induced slumber and he felt heaviness in his chest.

 _Foggy’s sound asleep. He’s exhausted. He’s been internalizing everything that happened and I know he’s been wondering what he would do if they had traded places; if he was the one who had lost so many people._  
_What would I do if I lost them? If I lost Foggy and Jen…I was a wreck after Elektra left…but that was different. I think. What would happen if they were suddenly cut out of my life?_

_How would I cope? I can’t imagine them not here. Sure…there was a time where they weren’t in my life…but – but that’s not now. Now Foggy and Jen are pillars in my life and for their own reasons._

Sniffling caught his attention and he could hear stifled, muffled sobs. Legs swung off the side of the cot and hands reached for his cane while he mentally prepared himself for going back to her room. A passing thought of waking Foggy crossed his mind, but he opted to let him rest. Foggy had done all of the leg work in coordinating between helping to contact families, informing Jen’s office of the accident, calling funerals homes…the man was tapped out and needed some sleep.

The sniffling he heard had turned into sobs and the nurse that had come into to check on her couldn’t console her. Standing in the doorway, Matt raised a hand to caution the nurse and who jumped, startled.

“You’re not supposed to be in here. It’s after family hours and you aren’t supposed to be on the floor.”

“Sorry,” he flashed a brief, congenial smile. “I couldn’t tell…they put us up in the family room with the cots. I can help.” Matt motioned to Jen, who was crying uncontrollably and thrashing in her bed. “She can’t hear really well and she just found out that most of the people in her car didn’t survive.”

“Oh,” the nurse lifted her hands from Jen’s arms and backed away. “Are you family?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, stepping into the room and coming into Jen’s line of sight. “We’re family.”  
“I’m here. It’s okay. I didn’t leave, alright? They put us in a room down the other hallway.”

When he sat on the edge of her bed, she lurched forward and wrapped her arms around him, crying into his shoulder. Matt could hear her bones creak and click with her movement, but she didn’t seem to notice since she clung tightly to his chest.

“I’ll call for the doctor to come by,” the nurse announced as she finished checking Jen’s vitals. “They may want to sedate her again.”

“I’m not going to tell you how to do your jobs,” Matt nodded, a hand cradling the back of Jen’s head. “But she needs to get this out of her system and if you could just give me some time…I might be able to get her to sleep on her own.”

“I’ll tell them that when I go back to the station.”

Now alone, Matt consoled Jen with kind words, gentle caresses, and rocked her in her bed. “You can be sad,” he whispered. “It’s alright.”

“Matt,” she choked between sobs, “They….can’t….gone…and poor JJ…”

He pulled back and wiped her tears from her cheek. “He’s gone. I’m sorry. I’m here. I’m not leaving.”

“That’s what he said,” she wailed back into his shirt. “He said!”

He could feel the fabric soaking from both her tears and spittle; and another wave of sobs overcame her.  
“I know,” he breathed into her good ear. “I know he did. And he meant it. So do I.”

“I can’t anymore…I should have died…it’s – it’s my fault.”

“Don’t you dare,” he pulled her away from him abruptly, hands holding her fiercely at a distance. “Don’t you dare say that, Jennifer. You look at me, right now!”

His voice echoed in her ear, but there was no mistaking the panic and anger in his voice. “Bad things happen to good people. And despite what you think after everything that happened to you, you are a good person, you are kind and brave and wise and – and if you think you can’t carry all of this on your own, I will help you. But don’t you dare give up.”  
“It’s not fair and it hurts and you feel like you’ve been abandoned. I know. I do. I know how you’re feeling. I’ve been there. Sometimes I think I’m still there. But you will not give up.”  
“You will grieve and be sad. And it may never stop. I’m never going to ask you to get over them. Never.  You will struggle. Some days will be harder than others. And you might feel guilty on the days that it’s easier. You will heal and piece yourself back together, but it’ll never be the same. That person you were, they’re gone and you’re changed.  
“But Jennifer Elise MacDougall, if you give up; if you fade away…I don’t know what will happen to me. Because I need you.” He bit his lower lip and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t need a lot. I’ve already felt what it’s like to have everything ripped away from you. But I know that I miss you when you aren’t around. I trust you more than Foggy sometimes. I feel like myself when you come by on the days it’s hard. And if you are going to give up and take that away from me, then you better tell me to leave this room right now. Be – because you and I both know…” She was holding her breath, he noted. “…that if we were traded places, you would be begging me not to give up on you either.”

“…begging?” Her voice was scratchy and breathy and her heart was beating wildly in her chest.

With care, he brought her hand to rest above his heart and he did the same to her. “I’m begging you to not give up. To work through your grief. To stay in my life, if that’s what you need to hold on to. I, Matthew Michael Murdock, am begging you to stay here with me in my life however you can because I can’t imagine…I…I can’t,” the crack in his voice tugged at her heart. “So – so I’m begging that you fight this. And when you feel like you can’t anymore…let me rescue you and shoulder some of it. But you need to start now.”

“Matt,” she closed her eyes, tears cascading down. Even drugged, she could feel his heart through the fabric of his shirt and she did her best to focus on it. He wasn’t lying to her, of that she was certain.  
_How does he do that…always know…before I do? And his face…not much scares him; at least, not that I’ve noticed and he’s worried. Genuinely. Foggy wears his heart on his sleeve…but Matt? He guards himself. Sometimes more than I do. Being around him more has given me that insight that when he wants to shut you out, he can. But this?_  
_Danny…and Dom…Mr. Bonner…Christ…they’re gone. I don’t even know what caused the accident. Or who’s responsible…but just like that…they’re gone. Melissa’s somewhere in this hospital in ICU…her parents are going to be devastated…the wedding was supposed to be in March… And my baby brother…that means mom is coming. I can’t…I can’t deal with her and this and my pain and my heart…_  
_Is that what he means? He knows what’s coming? It’s not my first major loss. We’ve talked about my uncle before…and how that hurt. But this…it’s just as sudden. But the magnitude of it…and here he is. Worried. For me._

Jen opened her eyes and wiped away tears with her freehand before a small voice crept from her throat. “Don’t leave me, okay?”

“Okay,” he nodded, visible relief washed over him. “I’m here.”

 

_Saturday_

“Hey, buddy,” Foggy whispered while the door shut behind him. “I went out and got some breakfast. Figured you were in here when I didn’t see you in the family room.”

“Yeah,” Matt did his best to stretch in the hospital bed without disturbing their patient. “She woke up, early…probably around two or so and the nurse was going to try and sedate her again because she was hysterical. But I talked her through it, got her to calm down. She asked that I stay and wouldn’t let go; the doctor brought me  a pillow and I camped out here the rest of the morning.”  
“What time is it?”

“Almost nine, and it’s now Saturday.”

“Damn,” the fringe of his dark hair hit his eyes as he shifted about before he rubbed his face. “I need to email Dr. Rafi and…”

“Already took care of it. They were rather understanding about the whole ordeal and asked that we try to read up on ethical proceedings when we aren’t tending to our family.” A solemn smirk and shrug adorned his features, to which he added, “I just shrugged.”

“Thanks. You’re amazing. Really.”

“Yeah, well…you look like shit. You should go home and shower, eat the sandwich on the way to save some time if you can. I’ll be here.”

Matt turned in her direction and gauged that she’d wake up within the hour given how she was metabolizing the medications they kept giving her. “I’ll wait until she wakes up. She’s afraid that we’re going to leave her, too…I don’t want her to not realize we aren’t here, in the event you have to leave for the bathroom or something when she wakes. She’ll understand, I think.”

“She looks worse than yesterday. Has she been crying all night?”

“Pretty much. She wouldn’t wake all the way up, but she’d start crying again and hold on to me for dear life before she’d fall back asleep.”

Foggy sighed, “Jesus.”

“Yeah.”

 

“What time is it? Shit,” Jen mumbled. Bandaged hands knocked over her water cup; thankfully it was lidded. Matt stretched and Foggy swooped in and rescued her drink, flexing the straw in her direction.

“After ten,” Foggy replied kindly. “You needed the rest and we didn’t want to wake you up.” A gentle smile graced his face when she sat upright.

“Sorry,” she quipped coolly, a bandaged hand wiped over her face.

“No problem.”

“In an effort to make a lame dig at Murdock, you’re probably the closest he’s been to a girl in months anyway. Not that there’s anything wrong with you, I’m just saying…and I’ll admit that sounded a whole lot better in my head when I was thinking it.”  
A small huff of air indicated that she found his rambling more amusing than the actual joke and Foggy’s smile broadened.  
“Mac, I know you probably don’t want to hear this…especially this early in the morning…but I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” she nodded. “I, um…I know you are both hurting, too…you know…in – in your own way…and y-you shouldn’t have to deal with me…”

“Excuse you,” Foggy’s tone became abrupt. “We are not dealing with you. How could you think that? You were just in a major car accident and are suffering. You are our wonderful, amazing, friend and – and I’m sorry that you have to go through all of this. But you aren’t going to go through it alone.”

“Sorry,” she apologized, her brows creasing in the middle in an air of confusion. “I know…I just… never mind. Thank you…both of you…for – for being here. It’s really important…you know?”  
Jen pressed a hand to her head and winced. “It’s still hard to hear. And think. And…and I feel empty…and lost.”

“That’s okay,” Foggy soothed as Matt slithered off the bed. “You’re healing and it’ll take some time. Your doctors are doing everything that they can to help you. Let them help. I don’t like seeing you like this, Mac.”

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“Jen, I am going to go and get a shower, alright? Foggy will be here with you until I get back.”

“Of course, yeah. Sorry. Go ahead.”

“Oh, and before I forget, here,” he dug into the pocket of his navy Dockers and held something in his hand for her. When she opened her hand, he deposited the gift into her palm. “They took it off of you when you came in. It was with your things, but I thought that you might want it sooner. I’ll be back after.”

Jen gazed at her hand and smiled. A long chain and a half-dollar-sized compass-rose shimmered in the light. _Thank God for small favors, I guess.  
“_I’ll – I’ll, uh, I’ll be okay, I think. Can’t say that I won’t cry, but…you know…”

“Mac,” Foggy warned.

“I’ll be fine. I’m certainly not going anywhere and I need to have an occasional bout of self-loathing if I’m going to start trying to process all of this,” she stated plainly. “Go. I’ll be right here when you come back. Get some work done.”

“I’ll bring a book or two with me,” Matt announced, slipping his hoodie over his head. “Can I get you anything?”

“No…no I don’t think so. I just need…” she trailed off.

Matt left quietly, the door clicking behind him and Foggy sat with his elbows on his knees, watching Jen stare out her window. He was worried her. They both were, even if Matt didn’t come right out and say it to him.  
In the time that he’d known her, Jen was nearly always willing to share what was going on in her head; she said it was therapeutic. But now, with the tragedy weighing down on her and her body healing, a nagging at his heart wouldn’t go away.  
_What if she starts shutting us out? What then?_

_Two Weeks Later_

Matt and Foggy had been spending most of their evenings at Jen’s apartment after she was discharged from the hospital. Matt put Foggy up in the spare bedroom and he slept out on the couch; both of them had brought their books and work from school over and made temporary camp in her living room.

“I…I don’t think I ever said ‘thank you’ for taking care of everything,” Jen admitted quietly from her dining room table.

Foggy looked up from his textbook and Matt’s head turned to give the impression he was looking over his shoulder while he was cooking dinner.

“You don’t have to,” Foggy replied quizzically. “It’s what family’s for. We help each other when we need it most.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, not entirely present in the conversation. “But…the funerals…I should have done more.”

“You did what you could,” Matt replied. “That’s all that anyone should expect you to do. If that’s how we could help you in those moments, then that’s what we needed to do.”

“Mac, please don’t beat yourself up about it,” Foggy pleaded. “And don’t doubt yourself either. You need to heal and take care of you.”

“Yeah,” her voice cut out.

“Besides, I got the lovely privilege of talking with your mother.” Jen snorted unenthusiastically. “That was practically a hurdle towards sainthood.”

Matt turned and listened intently to the room. Jen was making polite conversation because she knew it was expected; she knew that you were supposed to say thank you for these kinds of things. Even with the semi-automatic response, her mind and her heart wasn’t present.  
“Jen,” he paused until he knew she was paying attention. “For everything: you’re welcome. Alright? Foggy and I want you to know that you aren’t a bother or a job…or – or some pitiful thing that we feel obligated to be around. We are here because we care about you; because we know that you’d be doing the same thing for us without complaint. Now, do you want rice or potatoes with the chicken?”

“I don’t mind either way,” she shrugged.

Jen grew quiet and introspective again, staring at an inane spot on the wall. The medication the hospital sent home with her for pain management made her a zombie and it broke Matt’s heart, but Foggy had to remind him that she was in a ton of pain and that it was for her benefit. Jen shouldn’t have been able to walk out of the hospital without crutches or a wheelchair, but she waved them off and stubbornly made her way toward the cab.  
Foggy sighed, remembering the conversation with the nurses and the doctor while Jen hobbled away:

_“I’ve had patients with a high tolerance to pain,” Dr. Saheed shook her head. “But she takes the cake.”_

_Foggy signed some of the paperwork stating he was taking charge of her personal belongings from when she entered the hospital while Matt followed close behind her, trying to convince to take his arm and walk with him to the cab._  
_“She doesn’t really care for pain medication,” he replied. Foggy wracked his brain for information as his pen glided on the page. “She says that what she has been on give her migraines and she’s not keen on trading physical pain for neurological pain.”_

_“Well, I think it’s best that you two stick around as much as you can over the next week or two. Her medication’s in easier to open bottles considering the healing wounds on her hands. I printed out instructions for her, but she didn’t seem overly keen on listening.”_

_“Matt and I will make sure she’s got a routine. We’ve already talked about who is going to swing by at lunch time on what days and we’ve each got a key to her apartment. I think we’re going to be staying there for the first few days…just in case.”_

_“Good,” she nodded. “If, after her visit with the audiologist next week, you feel that she’s not getting better, reach out to me here,” the doctor handed him her card, “and I’ll do what I can to get her in quickly. You both have power of attorney according to her living will, at least until she’s of sound mind again.”_

_Foggy gazed down the hallway and watched Matt do his best to politely argue and reason with Jen. Her face was scrawled up into an expression of indifference while his best friend’s worry was written plainly on his face._  
_“Yeah. It’ll take some time.”_

“Just in case I don’t say it…or – or haven’t said it…or what-have-you,” Jen interrupted the weighted stillness. “I love you both.”


	23. Your Beast of Burden

_March_

The power had gone out due to the ferocious thunderstorm raging outside, wind howling against the roof and whistling against the windows. Rain pelted the city below while panes of glass rattled against the thunder. Jen had finished lighting candles around her apartment in response to the darkness.

Matt dried himself off from their evening trek in the rain and tossed the towel Jen had given him on the back of a kitchen chair. She had wanted to walk part of the way home and even though the rain messed with his sensory perception, he agreed and they walked.  
Something changed, he noticed, when Jen was around rain. Her breathing grew deeper and her heart beat slower. It was as if she could harness the energy from the weather to make herself holistically more at ease and recharge her mind and body. Waking up near her when it rained was one of his favorite things for this reason: it made him feel better, too.

“Well, can’t say that I’m surprised,” he snorted, sniffing the sulfur from struck matches. “The way this storm has been morphing all day, it’s no wonder the power went out.”

Jen smirked waving the match out after lighting her last candle. “I don’t mind it so much. I always liked when the power went out growing up.”

“What…no TV, no radio…”

“The quiet,” she smiled fondly. “I’ve always liked how still things get when the power goes out.”

“And here I thought you were going to make a darkness joke at my expense.”

Jen plopped onto her couch and looked at him incredulously.  “I’m cruel, yes, but I would hope my jokes that dig at you are a _little_ better than that.”

“The beer still on the top shelf?”

“Yep.” Matt opened the door swiftly taking four beers out. “Oh boy. Planning on drinking all of those alone?”

“No,” he chuckled, handing her two. “It’s not been that bad of a day.”

“That’s a blessing,” she quipped, setting her spare on the coffee table and drinking deeply from her bottle.  
“Hey, thanks for going to the gym with me.”

“You’re welcome. I told you, whenever you want to go and if I don’t have work, I’d go with you. Was the grief counseling what made you want to go so badly today?”

“Probably,” she sighed, tucking her legs underneath her so that he could sit beside her. “The counselor wants me to start going to group and I don’t want to. You know? I’m not sleeping...I – I’ve been losing my temper more readily, I still feel guilty for being alive…My loss…my grief…it’s mine. It’s personal…I don’t have the energy to deal with a group’s grief…you know…and…”

“…and you feel like everything good’s been sucked out of you and you don’t want to be around anyone because you feel like no one else could possibly understand,” he finished.

She furrowed her brow and nodded in understanding. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he took a long draw from his drink. “But, you _do_ call me to talk.”

“Because you don’t make me feel like I’m going to break; because you understand.”

“That feeling’s mutual.”

“Hmm,” she smirked. “I do want to talk to you, though. I have to go to San Francisco.”

“You mentioned that when you called at lunch. Duquesne wants you to go out and restructure their system to match the one here in New York, right?”

“Sort of. It’s the same system we use at the Chicago offices, too; just makes sense to integrate everything to the same system.”

“I can hear something in your voice that’s telling me that you’re not overly sold on the idea of going.”

“I dunno. I just don’t want to leave.”

He finished his beer and opened the second. “Duquesne thinks highly of you and your skillset. Why wouldn’t he and the company want to capitalize on that?”

“He wants me to go because he’s trying to be kind. He thinks that it’ll be good for me to bury my head in work and not be here for a while.”

“A while?” the pitch of his voice increased. “How long is _a while_? And when?”

“Three weeks he said, for starters if I can’t get everything moved over quick enough; longer otherwise. I’d have to leave middle of next week.”

“Wow, that’s – that’s amazing.”

“Amazing? You’re shitting me.”

“I mean, yeah, it sucks that you won’t be here to torment me for three weeks. Guess that means that I could really focus on law school.”

Jen laughed and leaned backward into the headrest. “I’m glad there’s a silver lining for you. However will you cope?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“That being said, you’re more than welcome to crash here while I’m gone. I know it’s a little farther than your apartment you’ve got with Foggy, but at least it’ll be quiet.”

“I’m going to throw raging parties here while you’re gone.”

“Do it. You won’t.”  
Jen had grown silent, lost in her thoughts. She knew that Matt had grown accustomed to the small silences she would have since the accident. He didn’t press when she was in her thoughts, and only got her attention when she would be gone for too long.  
“It’s hard sometimes, you know?”

“I know. And it will be.” She winced and stretched her leg out, a hand massaging her knee. “Stiff?”

“Should have wrapped it before we hit the mat. Thought I’d be okay considering I got a clean bill of health this week.”

Matt pulled at her leg and began prodding the joint. “It’s swollen. It wouldn’t have hurt for you to wait another week before grappling.”

“Yeah, well,” she huffed. “I needed the mat and by the way you were hauling ass, I’d say you needed it, too.” Matt snorted and bobbed his head. “Why did you need it?”

“Just keeping up my A-Game.”

“Liar.”

A warm chuckle reverberated in his chest. “You can’t blame me; it was worth a try.”

“Come on, tough guy,” she jabbed at his side. “There’s a difference in the way you move when you’re training versus when you’re angry.”

Matt stilled, hands resting on the outstretched leg in his lap. “I’m not angry.”

“Right, me either.” He snorted again and flashed a smile. “That’s what I thought. You getting all evasive and trying to make me feel better. That’s some grade-A, Murdock bullshit.”

“I seem to recall you complimenting it more than once and calling it charming and endearing. Look, it doesn’t matter why I might be angry or not angry.”

“Yes, it does.”

He shrugged. “I still get angry sometimes. I miss the sky. I miss knowing how things look. Just because I did the therapy doesn’t mean that I don’t lament what I’m missing every so often.”

Her eyes scrutinized his expression. “If you say so.”  
Jen stood up and collected the empty bottles and deposited them into the trash. When she returned, she stopped in front of Matt and ran her hand roughly through his damp hair and cupped his face. “Matt, you know that you can tell me those things.”

“I know,” he nodded, his brown eyes temporarily hidden from view from a lazy blink. “I just…I’m glad that you’re feeling better; physically, at least. Because I know what that feels like. To live in your head, have the guilt while the outside looks fine…and I wish you didn’t have to deal with it.”

“It’s part of my reality now,” she replied kindly. “Just hold my hand when I ask you to and kick my ass in gear when I need it.” Jen placed a knee on either side of his waist, having set her last beer on the coffee table.

Giving a nervous chuckle, Matt rested his hands on her waist and asked, “What are you doing?”

“Hopefully you in a few moments,” she replied.

“And what spurred this on?”

“Why do I need a reason? Can’t the fire in my blood from a good night be enough?”

“Is that what you’re going with? You always have a reason for just about everything,” he countered. “As far as _we_ are concerned, it’s not any different. Usually.”

“You aren’t the one that gets to decide when I want to get laid, _Counselor_. Right now, I’m the boss.”

A flash of a smile made his teeth glint in the candlelight. “I won’t argue with that.”

 

“That was,” Matt huffed after flopping down into the mattress.

“I know,” the smugness in Jen’s voice was transparent from the bathroom. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

“And how long has that been pent up in your system?” He stretched like a cat under the bed sheets before tucking his arms under head.

Jen slinked back into the bedroom and gazed out her window for a moment. “Since Pete.”

“Really?”

“Well, we were planning, before…”

“Ah.”

She shrugged and slid under the covers. “That feels like a lifetime ago.”

“In some ways, it is,” he nodded. “The accident doesn’t define who you are.”

Jen let out a laugh that sat low in her chest. “Is that you or your trauma therapy talking?”

“Both. Take it from personal experience,” Matt moved his arm around her and pulled her close against him. The tips of his fingers brushed over the scarred skin at her shoulder and then rippled over the jagged, raised lines of scar tissue on her back.

“What do they look like to you?”

“These,” he moved to her shoulder, fingers trailing over the skin. “The scarring is faint…it wasn’t overly deep and your skin’s done a great job of mending it back together. You took care of it after you got out of the hospital.”  
She didn’t flinch when his hands moved between her shoulder blades as he continued, “But here, the cuts were deeper. They had to stitch you in a few places. It was from the glass, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Jen divulged matter-of-factly.

“Some of the scar tissue is raised while it’s almost carved out in others. Because I know you and I know how you refused to _not_ sleep on your back like the doctor ordered, these weren’t taken of as well as some of the others.”

“I like to be on my back, what can I say,” she retorted smug.

“Double entendre aside, what scarring you do have feels like streaks of lightning.” His hand sat at the base of her spine once he had finished.

“The doctors prescribed a cream for me to use on my hands,” she added, looking at them in the dim candlelight. “It’s supposed to help with the scarring and make them fade, but I haven’t noticed anything, really.”

Matt offered his other hand to her and waited patiently. When Jen placed a hand in his, he brushed his thumb over the healed gashes in her palm. “It’s helping. They aren’t as pronounced like they had been when you first got the stitches out.”

“If you say so,” she shrugged, staring at her hand. “I suppose if you say it’s better, then it’s gotta be.”

“From the Gospel according to Matthew,” he teased.

Unsure of how much time had passed because he had been lost in his thoughts, he felt Jen’s hand drag across his collar bone as she made herself comfortable.  
“Jen?”

“Hmm,” she grumbled, voice sleep-laden.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“Hmpf,” She snorted and then mumbled, “Liar, but thanks for saying it.”

 

_June_

“She literally just got back yesterday and was gone over two months. What do you mean she doesn’t want to come over? I’m making dinner,” Foggy pouted. “It’s the weekend! She’s got time off. She told me so.”

“Maybe she’s not feeling well, man.”

“But – but Mac never says no when I make dinner.”

Matt placed his hands on his waist, exasperated. “What do you want me to do, Fog? She’s not answering her phone. More than likely, she turned it off.”

“You’re like…The Mac Whisperer. She’s been more like this since January. Can’t you, I dunno, do whatever it is you do to make her come out of her hole?”

“That’s not fair, Foggy. And you didn’t know me right after my accident…you don’t know what I was like back then.” He heard Foggy make a lamenting sound in the back of his throat. “Look, I’m sorry; but if Jen doesn’t want to be around people right now, then she’s entitled to that. She hasn’t always answered every call we’ve sent out.”

“I know,” his tone almost a whine. “I just miss her, you know? She didn’t really come around much before she left, and then she didn’t really call when she was in San Francisco. She’s like my sister. I just want to know she’s okay.”

Matt sighed. Jen had, admittedly, made herself verbally scarce while she was away. She had feared that Duquesne was going to make her incredibly busy to take her mind off the accident whilst taking advantage of her natural aptitude for business.  
“That’s okay, Fog, I know. I’ll – I’ll go check on her. You keep making dinner.”

“Don’t get beat up on your way over. She’d really beat your ass if you got mugged.”

 

Foggy sat on the couch with plates of food on the coffee table and deflated when Matt entered alone.  
“You didn’t find her?”

“No…no, I – I found her. She’s not feeling well." Matt unloaded his pockets and tossed the contents on the table next to the door. “Jen’s not well.”

“Damn. Is it contagious?”

“No, but she said that she’ll call once she’s feeling up to it. San Francisco didn’t do her any favors.”

“Man, I really thought her boss was doing her a favor.”

“He might have been altruistic in motive, but it didn’t help as much as he may have liked.”

 

_A Week Later_

“Mac, I just want you to know, I’ve missed the hell out of you. You know what it’s been like to have to deal with his relentless brooding for the past two months without any kind of backup?”

“So sorry for abandoning you temporarily, skipper,” she smirked. “I’m glad that you came out rather unscathed after it all.”

Jen glanced over at Matt who hadn’t said two words since he’d hugged her at the door.  
_Now what? How the hell did I piss him off?  
_“You alright over there, hot shot?”

He sniped, “Sure. I’m great.”

“Matt, be nice,” Foggy chastised. “What’s gotten into you, buddy?”

“Oh, I dunno. I was just thinking about some rules,” he muttered, head tilted in Jen’s direction. “I dunno, like two or six of them.”

The brunette squinted at the law student and Foggy stood frozen. “Uh…hey…you two…if you’re going to argue…can’t it wait?”

“Matthew,” Jen seethed, standing from the couch. “Might I speak to you out in the hallway?”

“Why? Something bothering you?”

Jen reached out and grabbed his elbow, guiding him towards the door. “Excuse us, Foggy. I’m going to verbally beat his ass in the hall. Don’t mind me.”  
The door shut behind them with an abrupt slam and Jen spun on her heel, “What the hell, Matt!”

“Did you not think that I wasn’t going to notice?” he hissed, his hand rocketing forward on her wrist. “I’ve waited for you to call me all damn week and you’ve stayed uncharacteristically silent, even for that...”

“Get off of me,” she snapped her hand away, looking down to her feet.

Matt’s whisper brimmed with fire. “You look at me, Jennifer. Fighting? Are you serious?”

“I knew it,” she shook her head solemnly. “I knew when you put your hand over mine last week.”

“Then why didn’t you talk to me,” his gaze reflecting pity.

“Why? WHY? You always know when I’m lying, Matt! Why in the holy name of _fuck_ would I subject myself to your disappointment on purpose?! Are you kidding me?” Jen shoved at his shoulders, and felt her rage growing when his lips curled into a frown.  
“I FEEL EMPTY,” she spat. “And that demon in me is incessantly whispering to me about how all of it… _all of it_ is my fault. I should have told them we could stay. We should have gone somewhere else. We should have ordered a cab or an Uber. We should have taken two vehicles. I should have told them not to come out.”

“Jen,” he warned when she shoved at him again. “Don’t.”

“If I don’t let it out… If – if I don’t let it out…if I don’t pay it in blood…I know I’m going to be consumed by it,” the tension in her voice gave audible evidence that she was fighting back tears. “S-s-so fuck you and fuck Dom and your sanctimonious bullshit.”

Jen shoved at him again and snarled when Matt wrapped his arms around her. “I said don’t.”

“Let me go! Just let me go!”

“No,” he growled backing against the wall while she struggled against his steeled grip. “I won’t.”

“Fuck you!” she seethed quietly enough that it wouldn’t warrant Foggy coming out to investigate.

“Maybe later,” Matt strained. “But right now, you need to pull your shit together. Got it?”

“Fuck…off…Mat…thew,” she forced against his hold.

“No. I said that…JESUS! You bit me!” his brows shot up in surprise. Annoyed and mildly impressed, Matt kicked his leg out and swept her feet from under her, scrambling to pin her to the floor.

“Get off!”

“Shut up,” he hissed, a wry smile on his face. “When you were done acting like a five-year-old, I was going to talk to you about…NO! Don’t!” Jen shifted her legs and tried to knee him. With clever maneuvering, Matt shifted his weight against her legs and sighed. “Are you done?”

Jen struggled against him and grumbled, “Fuck you.”

“Jen.”

“What?!”

“Are you going to play nice?”

“Fuck you,” her voice grew smaller and she’d begun to pout.

“Again, maybe later. Oddly turned on at the moment. That aside, are you ready to have a normal conversation that doesn’t involve you kicking me in the balls?””

“Fine.”

“Great,” Murdock rolled off of her and offered her a hand up. “What I was going to say is that I get it. I’m just mad you didn’t talk to me about it. And after I was done being angry about it, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go to the gym tonight.”

“Seriously?” the pitch of her voice high. Jen sat her hands on her waist and gave him an incredulous look.

He shrugged, slightly out of breath as his hands smoothed out his clothes. “Yeah. Thinking about moving you to a bag and getting you back into martial arts. Jen…look…it’s a part of who you are. You’ve been fighting for so long…and if you’re going to continue to fight, I want you to do it the smart way. Alright?”

“Alright,” she looked skeptical until she caught a whiff of Foggy’s cooking. “But what’s the catch?”

Matt pondered a moment, “I think you should tell Foggy about last week.”

“No!”

“Jen, he deserves to know. He thinks you were sick.”

“I am sick.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Yes, sick with melancholy and a taste for blood-soaked oblivion,” she replied matter-of-factly. “Tell me I’m lying.”

“Well, if you’re sick, then so am I.” She made a move to counter, but he continued, “Look, I don’t care. You’re hurting. I know. But I’m here and so is he and if you’re going to want to go to the gym with me anytime soon, you’re going to need to explain to him about last week.”  
“He loves you, Jen. You’re the sibling he should have designed if he got to make one.”

“Should?” she quipped a brow and leaned backward on the wall.

“I mean, he’d probably have designed a brother that looked like Al Leiter…so…take that for what it’s worth,” he smirked when she snorted. “Jen…c’mon. He deserves to know.”

“Hmm,” the sound resonated in her throat. Her blood felt like it was fire again and her heart pounded in her chest. “Oddly turned on?”  
_God damn it, Matt. You ass._

A devilish grin crept across his lips, “Perhaps.”

“Good. But you better give me nothing but your best later, Murdock,” her eyes gave him a once over. “Or else.”

 

_Thwack…th-th-thwack._

 “You good?” Half of Matt’s face was visible from behind the bag, but it did nothing to hide his grin.

“Yeah, why?” Clad in a pair of shorts and a sports bra to work, perspiration clung to her skin in from working at the gym.

Matt had her work over a bag for the better part of forty-five minutes and had sensed that she was slowing down. “You’re not putting your all into each of your strikes. They’re pretty weak.”

Jen blew hair out of her face and wiped her forehead with the back of her arm. “I’m just making sure I don’t knock you on your ass.”

“Don’t worry about me. Come on. Give me what you’ve got.”

Her hips re-centered themselves and her shoulders squared off. Arms began an incessant assault on the punching bag with different patterns of strikes and combinations until Jen was winded and stopped to walk in a small circle.

“That’s more like it,” Matt admired. He could sense her eyes on him after he’d admonished her with praise.  
_She likes it._

“Yeah,” she huffed while she shook out her hands. “Well, you should have seen the other guy.”

Matt hung off the bag with another devious expression on his face. “Tell me about it.”

“Pfft. I didn’t realize we were having story time.” Jen drank deeply from her water bottle and covered her face with her towel.

“What happened to make you go back to fighting? Where were you?”

She tossed her towel back onto the bench and turned to face him. “Why?”

“Because. Something had to set you off. What was it?”

“It doesn’t matter what it was,” she waved off before her hand slapped at her side. “But…the first fight out there…it was spontaneous. I wasn’t planning on getting into another fight.”

“What happened?” he blinked, pleased with himself that she was beginning to divulge information from her trip to him. He could sense that part of her was waking up and coming alive as she spoke.

“I didn’t think, you know? I just…it took over and it – it was like I was set loose on this guy. Everything just – just slowed down…I could hear my heart and it was beating so steadily. You know? Like…I could hear my breath leave my body and I was just…I don’t know…in tune with myself and – and…” Matt bobbed his head in a gesture for her to continue. “…and I was both in and outside of my body and I felt something. I don’t know what it was…or how to describe it…but I felt it…and I liked it.”

Jen stood in front of him and slowly mimicked the blows she’d landed on her former opponent on Matt’s person, verbally explaining where she struck and why as the memory played before her eyes.

“Maybe it’s not the demon that you got a glimpse of. That’s not what you let loose.”

“What d’you mean?”

Matt stepped in her direction and crowded her frame until his torso pressed against hers. “What if it’s not the demon you feared that came out…what – what if it was just you?”

“Me?” Jen snorted, arms moving to rest atop his shoulders. “Are you implying with some psycho-babble-bullshit that I’ve really not been afraid of my worst-self but my true-self instead?”

“Not exactly what I had intended,” his hands pulled her waist against him, a sarcastic smirk on his lips. “But take it as you will.”

Jen’s voice grew husky, “Aren’t you afraid of me if that’s who I am?”

“No.”

“That was quick. Not even a little hesitation?”

“None. I will not, ever, be afraid of who you are.”

“Such things you say,” she teased. Her long fingers traced the line of his jaw and brushed over the dark stubble. “What was her name?”

“Elaine.”

“You can probably surmise what the next question is.”

His head tilted backward exposing his neck to Jen as he grumbled in contemplation. “She wasn’t a good person.”

Jen nipped at his throat. “Since when has that stopped you from getting laid before? I’m not a good person.” He groaned and felt a ripple of glee when both the sound and vibration in his chest did things to her.

“Well,” he chuckled. “You _are_ a good person…sometimes.” Matt lowered his head and tilted it to the side. “She – she went out with me as a bet…for pity.”

“She did what?!” Jen stilled and her voice flat. She knew full well that he couldn’t see her, but she didn’t appreciate how his eyes seemed to know where to move to give her the impression that he was making eye contact with her.  
“When the hell was this?”

“Mid-April. She’s a first-year law student. We crossed paths a few times, asked her out for coffee twice.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Excuse you,” his voice floated in a joke. “You didn’t tell me things either.”

“This is different!”

Matt smirked and tightened his hold at her hips. “No. Not really.”

Jen’s skin grew hot under his hands and heat radiated off her face while her blood pumped vigorously through her body. It hadn’t gotten old: the way people would treat Matt. Whether it was due to prejudice, ignorance, or plain stupidity, one of the few hair-trigger things that would set her off on a soapbox or verbal crusade was people treating him like he was sub-human.  
“Stop getting mad about it, Jen. I called her out on it and told her that I didn’t want to see her again.”

“No, no, no…don’t you flash that charming smile of yours. Stop it.”

Murdock stepped forward forcing Jen to step backward until her back was pressed against the wall. His thumbs brushed above the hollow of her hip and he grinned.  
“Does it still make you mad?”

“Of course it fucking does,” her voice low, stewing over what he’d said.

“Why?”

She gripped his shirt and pulled him closer to her. “No one gets to make you feel less than you are. Except for me. …and only when you deserve it.”

“Someone’s a little territorial.”

“And? You aren’t?”

“What was his name?”

“Who?” she quipped, shoving him backward so that she could grab their gear.

When he heard her shoulder her bag and grab his from the floor, he leaned against the wall, crossed his ankles and arms in an effort to convey the smugness he internalized. “The guy who didn’t satisfy out in San Francisco?”

“You know, just because I’m angry and frustrated doesn’t automatically mean that I’m sexually frustrated, too,” she tossed his bag at him.

“You’re right,” he rolled his head, laughing. “But I know you. And I know what you sound like and feel like when you are frustrated. It’s usually when I get a phone call to go out to dinner or an extra session of gym time.”

“Are you coming?” she groaned at the door, waiting for him to follow.

He shrugged, not moving from his spot. “I might be later.” Jen threw her head back and sighed. “His name.”

“Jack.”

Matt pushed off the wall and stood next to Jen. “Thank you.” She playfully shoved his face away from her. “So…am I coming?”

“Shut up; let’s go.”

 

Shoved into her door, Matt pulled Jen with him and pulled her keys out of her pockets, dangling them in front of her face. “Helps if you unlock the door first. Uh-oh…”he laughed.

“Wha…” One of her neighbors cracked open their door and peeked their head out. “Sorry, Mr. Mira. I…tripped…”

“Tripped? _Smooth,”_ Matt teased as he opened the door and ducked in.

“Have a good night, sir. And tell your wife thank you for the banana bread.”  
Having slinked into her apartment and quickly shutting the door behind her, she glared across the room at the law student. “You are an asshole.”

“You’re the one that couldn’t think fast enough on their feet. That’s not my fault.”

Jen moved past Matt into her office and dropped off her gym bag. With expert precision, Matt navigated around her furniture, deposited his bag beside the couch and began to rummage through her fridge.

“You’ll need to reach to the back of the top shelf,” she called. “I drank a bit over the past week.”

“I noticed,” he chuckled. “Did you buy the beer that I drink?” She reappeared, reached overhead into the freezer and grabbed her whiskey stones. “Liquor?”

“If I start tapping into the six pack of your beer, then I know I’ve hit bottom and need to go shopping,” she teased, uncorking one of her favorite rums. “I’m allowed to have rum if I feel like it.”

“I asked because I was going to grab you a bottle,” he retorted looping his arm around her waist. “You’d rather not enjoy this fine beverage?”

“It’s piss water.”

“It’s _alcoholic_ piss water.”

She hopped up on the counter and Matt stood before her, not relinquishing the contact he had on her bare midriff. “Suit yourself. You’re more than welcome to the better stuff in the apartment without asking.”

Matt leaned forward and captured her mouth in a kiss. “Thanks. That was good.”

“That’s cheating,” she replied smoothly as she took another sip from her glass with heavy-lidded eyes peering over the rim at him.

“I don’t cheat, I expertly maneuver around fact and truth. You don’t become a good defense attorney without always looking to verbally out-maneuver the opponent.”

“Mm-hmm. How’s that working out for you?” Her fingers slipped under the bottom of his shirt and she raked her nails across the small of his back.

“Good so far,” his breathing hitched. “It’s usually more difficult to catch you…with a slip of the tongue.”

Jen laughed and tightened her legs around his waist. “Now that doesn’t sound very much like me,” she teased. “I don’t recall you ever complaining about my tongue.”

“Do you ever think about it,” he set his beer on the counter and inhaled deeply through his nose.  
_Her soap smells like amber and spices…But she started wearing perfume again, she hasn’t done that since the accident. Sandalwood…vanilla…jasmine…orange blossom…it suits her. And I’m sure to the average person, they wouldn’t’ be able to smell it like I can right now. Jen didn’t put any on today. But she sprayed it yesterday morning._  
 _There’s the smell of exertion: sweat, adrenaline; the gym. Now this. Arousal, rum, the smell of impending rain in the air…all of this swirling around and pulsing at her wrist, her throat; her lips._

“What’s that, hot shot?”

“This arrangement, such that it is, that we have. The not-dating thing.”

“You’re going to ask me that while I have my legs hooked on your waist and you’re looking at me the way you do when you know you’re getting laid? _Smooth_ ,” she teased.

“So you have thought about it.”

“I have,” she finished her drink and placed the glass on the counter before resting her hands on his chest. “You and I both know we would screw it up if we actually started dating.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m not so bad. Surly. Minimal upkeep. Likes cheap beer. Already frequently in your bed to begin with. I’m like a moody houseplant.”

Jen threw her head back and laughed. “What you just described, Matthew, is a cat that likes beer, not a houseplant.”

“Okay, okay,” he conceded, smiling at her, “but, you have to admit that this is the one constant thing we both have had in our _quote-unquote_ love lives. Right? I mean…this is good.”

“It is…and I just nodded. I’m all for this faux-friends with benefits thing. We just can’t deny who we are as people and we don’t. We both are raging sluts,” she poked into his chest. “Having that connection to you…and then potentially hurting you because we are creatures of habit…I don’t want to risk that. Why ask?”

Matt’s head bobbed in understanding, “Fair point and agreed. As – as good as this is…I don’t want to ruin it…all of it... I just wanted to make sure that we’re both on the same page. Besides, I’m much better looking than you are anyway. Foggy tells me so.”

“I thought you were trying to get laid, Mr. Murdock, not getting thrown out of my apartment.”

He shrugged and leaned forward, “You can throw me out if you want. I’ll go. You just have to say so.”

Jen sighed. “Matt.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, “now I _know_ I’m not getting thrown out. Not when you say my name like that.” Fingertips brushed over her thighs and her heart began to race.

“You bastard,” her voice husky again. “Cocky son of a bitch, that’s what you are.”

“Comes with the territory, dear,” he inhaled sharply when her other hand dipped under his waistband. “Most lawyers are.”

“You’re not most lawyers, Matthew.”

“No, guess not.”

Jen shoved him back lightly and slinked around the counter towards her bedroom. “I’m getting a shower.”

“That’s just rude,” Matt retorted. “I thought we were nearly having a moment.”

“Oh no, we are,” she replied, opening up a closet door and pulling a small toiletry bag out of it. “It was more of an invitation, Matthew.”

_My stuff. Oh. She’s good._  
Matt moved to the doorway. He wasn’t vastly taller than her, a few inches if she wasn’t in heels; but he felt as if he was towering over her and she was doing her best to square up to him. The air tasted heavy and thick to him, but he didn’t mind. All focus he had was on the present moment and savoring every ounce of it.

Jen stretched out her hand and waited in the quiet, “Come on; I’ve got you.”

A knowing smirk pulled at his lips and he dropped his hand into hers, “God I hope so or this is going to be one hell of a story for later.”

She pulled him close and stood on her toes, pressed her lips to his. His teeth raked across her bottom lip and the guttural sound Matt made sat low in his chest, eliciting a triumphant sigh from Jen.  
_Alcoholic piss water aside, I could do this all day. That defined cupid’s bow, the micro-expressions he makes with is face when he’s enjoying himself…silk on my tongue and a taste of nirvana. Fingers pressing into my ribs. Tentative steps backwards while I peel his shirt overhead. Trust. Knowing that I won’t lead him too far astray. The pressure building in my abdomen and his arousal digging into me. Whatever we are, whatever happens…this is what I need tonight and he knows it._  
 _He always knows._  
 _Always._

 

Light rain began to rap against the window pane. She liked the rain. It gave her a sense of tranquility, a sedative gifted from nature to bring her back home. A quick eye surveyed skin exposed in the dim light with amusement: scratches, red marks; beginning bruises. Nothing short of what was deserved or expected after hours of sex with Matt Murdock when both parties involved were animalistic.

Resting his head on her shoulder and draping his long arm across her, Matt was breathing deeply and soundly in his sleep. The tips of her fingers languidly trailed up and down his spine on their own accord.

They hadn’t gone into why he was angry or what had been eating at him. Sure, he blamed it on her lack of communication, but she was smarter than that; and she knew he knew it. Regardless of the reasoning, they met each other, two infernos colliding into a cataclysmic wildfire.

Her other hand brushed her hip as she stretched knowing full well that bruises would be forming there in the shape of fingertips. The thought gave way to a lazy smile. These kinds of marks, she didn’t mind. Never had. For her, they were badges. Only people that she let close enough got to leave their mark on her skin.

_Before Matt Murdock…but no…he is in his own separate category. Broken people look for broken people. I said that once. He’s just as invincible and fragile as I am. There were men…no…boys…there were boys that I let get physical with me. I wanted it. Craved it because I thought that was all I was good for. But then – then this asshat showed up._   
_Look at him. Strong in heart…and body, wicked smart, an asshole…but let’s be honest, you kind of have to be to deal with me… and, well, he is very easy on the eyes._   
_Sometimes, I think Foggy’s right…we are two sides of the same coin…but we are different enough that it just works. He’s more stubborn than I am. That’s for sure. I’m more level-headed. Well…sometimes._

_But who in the grand scheme of the world would continuously put up with me and still come back? Foggy Nelson and Matt Murdock. They must be insane. Just a little. Dom was stuck with me by proxy. Christ. I miss him._   
_The police have said that it was foul play…a gang hit the wrong car and put a small bomb underneath thinking it belonged to a rival. What bullshit._   
_I’ve had my share of violence. Sometimes I choose it. But…never to people that are innocent. Never. I lost that part of my family to gang violence because their car looked similar to some other punk’s. That sits great on my heart._

“Jen,” Matt’s voice had gravel in it.

“Hmm?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine.”

He chuckled as he lifted himself onto his forearms. “Liar.”

“You could pretend, just this once, that you don’t know when I’m lying.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Jen shimmied underneath him, making a mental note of how tangled in the bedsheets they were. “I’m going to bruise.”

“You? Have you forgotten the marks I’ve got on my chest?”

She murmured quietly, “No, I can see them just fine.” Her hand brushed over the reddened lines. “You can tell Foggy your latest exploit was rough.”

“She was,” he countered and brushed hair out of her face. “Sorry if I was too rough.”

“I would have told you if you were. I guess I should apologize for waking you up.”

“Nah,” he shook his head. “You make this sound…it’s kind of quiet…but when you’re thinking and you’re upset…it – it resonates in your chest. What was making you upset?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me why you needed this tonight, and don’t blame it on me being radio silent.”

“You sure you aren’t studying _quid pro quo_ cases at Columbia?”

“Take it or leave it, Counselor, that’s my final offer.”

Matt didn’t move or speak for a time, his eyes remained closed and his mouth pressed into a firm line. “I wonder, sometimes, if I’m going to be able to do enough. If…if I’m going to be able to help enough. There’s so much wrong out there in the city. Even just in my portion of the city. This internship…I mean; it’s great. Landman and Zack has offered me an internship next year after graduation with the anticipation that, if Foggy and I keep impressing everyone, we’d get the job…”

Jen cupped his face and said, “…but…”

“…there’s just so much. How can I make a difference?”

“Well,” she inhaled sharply, “As your first _starfish_ ….”

“Damn…I haven’t thought about that in a while…”

“…you make a difference for one person and one person at a time. Just like walking. Give that person the world if you can. Make their world a little brighter. And if you’re ever in doubt,” she shrugged, “go back to Thurgood Marshall. He’s your favorite anyway.”

“How can you have so much faith in me?”

“Because someone has to. Hell, you have misplaced faith in me as far as I’m concerned.”

“No…”

“I’m just saying that it goes both ways, Matt. We believe in each other because we know that we don’t have the heart to believe in ourselves. I guess. I don’t know. Why are we being so philosophical at one in the morning?”

“Because you were upset and _quid pro quo_.” Matt rolled onto his back and inclined his head in her direction.

“Well,” she shifted inanely on the bed. “It was the marks first…and then you were sleeping soundly…then my train of thought moved to Dom and how much I missed him. The connection was that you both put up with me and my bullshit. But then I moved to the police report and the reason for the accident…”

“Are you okay?”

“Of course.” Her face contorted into nonchalance. “I’m always okay.”

“Hmpf,” he nodded. “Me, too.”

“Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s no one else I’d rather be okay with, if it’s any consolation.”

Matt snorted and rolled over to face her, “Yeah. It is. We’ll figure it out as we go, alright?”  
His hand brushed over the gold chain that pooled at her collarbone. “You’re not lost, Jen. You’re just off the beaten path at the moment. You’ll find your way. You always have.”

“See,” she teased, pressing the pendant between her thumb and forefinger. “People would never believe that the man saying that to me now is the same man that pinned me up against my shower wall earlier this evening.”

“No, probably not. It’s my devilishly good looks and charm. That’s what you tell me. And occasionally the other women I sleep with. And Foggy…”

“Okay, okay, hot shot…you started off strong and then,” she whistled and made an explosion noise. “I’m just going to tell you that your pillow talk should probably leave Foggy out of it with everyone that isn’t me.” Matt laughed and she continued, “I’m just saying…as a friend…I’d tone that back a bit. Might scare off some _really_ hot chick that’s a keeper one day. Because I’m telling you now I will feign innocence, make a judgmental face in your general direction and vaguely shrug, saying, ‘I dunno where he went wrong. That’s weird. Yep, I’d break up with him, too’.”

Another smirk graced his face. Jen chortled, “You keep doing that, I’m going to have to send you to the hospital. People might think you’re insane.”

“I thought we both agreed once that we’re both insane.”

“Oh. No. You’re much more insane that I am. That’s one-hundred-percent true. I polled people.” Jen sighed and settled into her pillow. Silence fell over them and Jen finally felt the welcome pull of sleep.

“It’s okay,” Matt’s whisper interrupted the silence. “We’re okay.”


	24. They Say This is Coping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist for the Chapter:
> 
> Hymn for the Weekend; Coldplay  
> Dinner and Diatribes; Hozier

_October_

Lush and verdant foliage had transformed to fire as the tendrils of autumn wove their way into the bustling hum of New York. Tank tops and sandals were traded in for jackets and shoes. New York was shedding its skin while leaving it’s throbbing heart untouched. Jen would opt to hop out of the cab or get off at an earlier subway stop if it meant that she got to bask in the crisp air.

Thursdays had a certain routine to them: she got to work by three in the morning. There was a solemnity to working in the office when no one was around. She made the first pots of coffee for the early birds around six thirty, organized her calendar and emails, and chipped away at any fiscal work that came across her desk.  
Tia would walk in promptly at 7:48 because she liked to be early to be on time and would politely knock and pop her head into Jen’s office to let her know she was there.

By one, Jen had worked ten hours and would bid everyone a good rest of the afternoon. No one questioned it because, frankly, Jen was one of the best bosses you could work for in the city. She was understanding about time off, emergency obligations, financial distress: she’d experienced them all herself. Her office was set up in such a way that every single person had a comfortable salary, time off, and certain departments could work from home if they needed to. Productivity was up, morale was high; Mike Duquesne was happy.

The town car with Oscar at the ready, which she usually reserved to pick up and drop off clients, waited for her in the garage. It was a small drive outside of the city to the care facility, but she’d become accustomed to it.  
“Miss J-Jen…I’ll be r-r-right here w-when you’re…..d-d-done.”

“Thank you, Oscar. I’ll probably be a couple hours, so if you want to drive off and have your own time, I’ll call when I’m ready.”

 On arrival, she signed in and spoke with the staff before making her way to room 108.

One of the nurses, Alisha, waved and hustled to catch Jen in the hallway. “Right on time!”

“Hello there, lady,” Jen smiled. “I have something for you and the staff…” she rummaged through her bag and produced two small, aluminum, bread-loaf tins. “I know how much you guys liked it the last time I made any, so I made you two loaves of gingerbread.”

“Oh, honey, you didn’t have to do that!”

“I know, but I wanted to. And…I – I wanted to say thank you. For helping. Oh,” she remembered with a flash of a smile, “dip that bread into some coffee. It’s amazing.”

“Well…thank you, Mac. That’s kind of you. Uh…I wanted to tell you before I got sidetracked with baked goods that it’s a good day today.”

Jen pressed her lips together into something akin to a smile and nodded. “That’s good. Is the book still on the window sill?”

“Right where you left it. We have housekeeping do the room after you leave to help make things a little easier. Go on ahead, baby girl. You’re expected.” Alisha left quietly down the hallway toward the office and Jen opened the door.

“Hello, darling,” her voice soft. “Here I am.”

 

After her visit, Jen would make the trek back into the city and have the company car drop her off at St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral. It was the same every week: she would enter in quietly and light a prayer candle, move to the same pew and sit in the reverent stillness for about an hour.

On this particular Thursday, the Monsignor sat beside Jen without saying a word and admired the stained glass that Jen would focus on when she visited. Quiet prayers floated into the vast ceiling as did the muffled shuffling of feet and the faint, audible reminder of the outside world while wisps of incense threaded in the air.

“I’m fine,” she finally uttered.

“Well, that’s a relief,” the priest nodded. “I was worried.”

Jen’s placid expression turned into a sarcastic, lopsided grin. “I thoroughly appreciate your sentiment and your bedside manner, Monsignor, but I’m fine. Really.”

“Of course you are; and, how was the hospital today?”

“She had a good day,” Jen closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I read two chapters to her. She loved the book before the accident. Only made sense to read it to her while she’s in there.”

He clasped his hands in his lap and tilted his head to the side. “I see.”

“How was your week?”

“Oh, not too bad. My niece and nephews came to visit. It was nice to see them. We had a picnic in the park before they headed home.”

“That sounds lovely,” she gazed back at the window. “I’m glad you got to see them.”

“Thank you. So what is it today, Jennifer?”

“What’s that, Father?”

His tone remained soft and kind, “Clarity or peace?”

“Peace,” she answered, thoughtful. Jen leaned forward and braced her forearms against the pew in front of her. “Yes, I think _peace_ today.”

“Are you angry?”

“I’m always angry.”

“Is it more pronounced today than others?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just wanted to make sure that I was able to sit here in the quiet and find some sense of peace in my day.”

“Might I ask you a question?”

“Of course, please.”

He hesitated a moment while trying to find the correct words to say. “You come here every week on Thursdays after visiting her in the care facility. You pay for it and want no compensation from the family. You spend anywhere from one to four hours there during each visit. Then you come here, without fail, and sit in this pew. To the untrained observer, one might think that you are staring at the very symbol of our faith, pondering or praying. But instead of the Crucifix, you seem to look past it and gaze at the window rather than on the Savior. Why is that?”

“Have you noticed how in – in most churches, the Cross is held aloft with exquisite glass behind or flanking it?” He nodded and she continued, “Each piece of glass has been placed in the exact spot it was meant to be, mortared or leaded together to create something wholly beautiful. I probably like mosaics for the same reason.”  
“It’s beautiful from afar, but when you get closer…when you really take the time to examine it for what it really is…it’s nothing…shards of glass…pieces of cement…I used to believe that’s what I was.” Jen felt the priest look to her, perplexed at what she was saying. “I’ve had my fair share of torment and violence done to me. With help, I pieced myself back together. I have suffered. I have forgiven.”

“That’s very good of you to have done so,” he interjected. “But holding on to that anger will only further torment you and not bring you peace or closure.”

“I don’t seek closure, Father,” she sighed. “On the quiet days…the better days, that anger and pain is – is like a fire that’s been dampened for the night. It’s there, living and breathing, but it’s – it’s softer.”  
“The days where it’s hard…where I go to the gym or the mat when I’m not scheduled to…it burns hotter than anything, white-hot and it pains me until I can fight it; bleed it out of my system for that day…”

“Jennifer…”

“To answer your question,” she stood, having collected her things, “I look past the Crucifix because He’s done nothing for me except solidify the belief that I am meant to feel apart from Him and I look towards the symbol of what I used to be in the hopes that one day I’ll be pieced back together, whole, like that window. I come here, because it’s beautiful and there’s a tragic solemnity that hangs in the air from the people that pray for whatever ails them.”  
“I come here, every week, because Dom would have wanted me to…to give my life some order…some routine…I don’t come here for me. I don’t come here for pity or help. I come here for him, because he is still very real to me. He is still very much alive to me and every week that I go to that hospital,” she genuflected upon exiting the pew, “I am reminded of how real he still is because she’s still there. Have a good day, Father. I’ll be back next week.”

 

The sound of gentle but chipper knuckles rapped on her door. “Use your key,” she hollered. Jen was fighting a roast chicken in the oven and was trying in vain to keep it from tipping over.

“Mac-Attack, smells amazing, as always!” he tossed his coat over a chair and bent down to place a kiss on her cheek. “What can I help you with?”

“If you’ll check the prosciutto up on the trivet,” she huffed while she basted the bird, “that’d be swell.”

Gleefully, Foggy reached across her back and nabbed a sprig of asparagus wrapped in crisp prosciutto. “Oh my God,” he mumbled with his mouthful. “Mac…this is the worst thing you’ve ever done,” he teased. “Never make this again. I hate prosciutto.”

“Uh-huh,” she clucked and stood upright. “Your reverse psychology doesn’t work on me. How was class?”

Foggy rolled up his sleeves and pulled out the necessities for dinner. Plates and utensils in hand, he replied, “Not bad. Almost done, you know? Then Matt and I are going to save the world. Get a job at a firm. Make something of ourselves.” Jen stole a glance at his animated antics and smiled. “You’re going to laugh at me?”

“Nah,” she shook her head and looked at him with kind eyes. “I’m just very proud of you. You realize in February, I’ll have known you two for four years?”

“…Really?” he interrupted.

With a nod, she continued, “And you have made such great strides and – and really, Fog. I’m proud of you. You’re going to be a damn good attorney.”

There was a fond smile and lines in the corner of his eyes. “Thanks, Mac.”

“You’re welcome.” Jen rubbed her hands together and sighed. “Dinner will be done in fifteen, do you want to hang here or go up on _le terrace_?”

“Why not. Let’s dine _al fresco_ tonight. It’s not too cold yet.” Jen pulled a bottle of whiskey and down from a cabinet and nabbed two glasses. “And now the cool air isn’t even going to matter. _Mademoiselle,”_ he bowed and gestured to the stairs, “after you.”

“Thank you, _monsieur,_ ” her body replied in a curtsey.

The pair traversed the stairway and moved to her patio to talk about their day.  When the alarm on her phone went off, Nelson left to bring plates of food back upstairs and they dove hungrily into their dinners.

“How was the visit out of the city?”

“Good.” She nodded and said between bites, “She had a good day today. I was able to read two chapters and the nurses let me know she’s been good for the past week. They’re going to try implementing a new therapy for her on Monday. The doctor said they’d know how successful it was in three weeks or so.”

A faint smile flashed on his face, “That’s good. Are they hopeful? I mean, it’s going to help with muscle movement and all, right?”

“Yeah. Help stimulate everything and get the blood circulating a little better.”

“Mac, if it ever gets too hard, I’ll go with you.”

Jen leaned back and drank deeply from her glass of whiskey. “Thanks.”

“You are an amazing person, Mac. I love you.”

“I love you too, Fog. I’m glad that we do this,” she surveyed her surroundings with contentment. “I like this. It helps.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it does you any good because you’re a badass and – and then I think about how you manage to deal with everything you manage every single day…and remind myself that this is what we do. You and I go out or have dinner together. Like normal people.”

“Like normal people,” she chuckled. “Yeah.”

“It’s become a weekly date, but I think that’s good, you know? For example,” he stood and gestured to the skyline. “I know the day after I have dinner with my amazing friend that I have one day of classes left for the week before I have the weekend to get work done. I know that I get the chance to bask in that view. I know that I get to spend time with you and we talk about just about anything.”

“You’re going to make me blush.”

“You’ve had adversity in your life and still you come back swinging. Every time! You’re a tour de force with Duquesne Enterprises and the envy of a lot of people in your line of work. How could I ever pass up the chance to hang around that kind of power and strength and heart?”

She ran a hand through her hair and a sheepish grin pulled at the side of her mouth. “Careful. You can have too much of a good thing.”

“No such thing,” he waved her off and breathed the biting air into his lungs. “Nah, Mac. You’re wrong. I could never have enough of you in my life. You make me want to be better and be a better attorney. Help people. Save the world.”

“With the way that the world is going, you might want one of those fancy metal suits ol’ what’s-his-nuts has out in California.”

“I won’t need one,” he proclaimed, triumphant. “I’ll have the word of law on my side. You think a guy like that’s concerned with the little guy he may hurt when he’s flitting around and blasting things? No. Who helps those of people?”

“Sounds like you’ve been talking to Joan of Arc again about what kind of firm you two want to be in when you get out of Columbia.”

“That obvious? He’s been digging around in Marshall again.”

“Of course he has,” Jen chirped with a quick tug of her feet under the throw. “It’s his go to. Bored? Marshall. Sad? Marshall. Happy? Marshall. Angsty? Marshall.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” He smirked and peered over his shoulder, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“You ever given any thought about you two together?”

“What,” she snorted with a devious gleam in her eye. “Me and Mr. Broody? Outside of the fact he’s dating that girl, Yvette? It would never work between us.”

“Oh, I dunno. I think it would work out better than either of you think it could. You don’t put up with each other’s bullshit.”

She pointed in agreement and nestled into the cushions, “That’s some truth right there.”

“All I’m saying is that – that I always wondered why the two of you never got together. He obviously cares for you, Mac. A lot. And that’s saying something because for Murdock that’s a very short list.”

“We talked it over before,” she divulged, offering him the cushion beside her. “We agreed that we’re creatures of habit and that what we do have…it takes precedence over anything like that. Haven’t really revisited that conversation, to be fair.”

“I’m not trying to be _that guy_. It just surprised me. That’s all.”

“You’re not being that guy. You’re asking a legitimate question. What spurred this on?”

“Pretty sure she’s going to dump him this weekend. He called her the wrong name last night when they were in his room.”

“Oo-oo-ooh,” she laughed, a wince on her face. “That. Sucks. Way to go, Murdock. What did he call her?”

“Beth.”

“Oh…oh no. Honey, no, no no…” her laughter was uncontrollable. “Wasn’t she two girls before Elaine?”

“Yeah. She was pissed. Stormed out and slammed the door on the way. I thought he was going to call you about it.”

“No. Oh, I can’t wait until he brings this up. I’m going to roast him on it,” Jen punctuated.

Foggy draped his arm on the back of the couch and covered the pair of them with another blanket, each of them with their drinks in hand. “Probably should go easy on him.”

Both of them looked at each other skeptically and said together, “Nah!”

“Thanks, Foggy,” Jen smiled, leaning her head back on his arm and relaxing. “For everything.”

“Anytime,” he replied similarly. “That’s what family’s for.”

 

Matt had been holed up in his apartment all evening studying over public law and ethical issues in criminal practice. His braille display, connected to his laptop, refreshed easily as he scanned line for line from his digital texts. The acrylic pins made subtle clicking sounds as each new word was raised on the pad, the whirring of the internal mechanisms cutting through the silence.  
Truth be told, he was growing fatigued. His mind was buzzing with information and the creeping heat of exhaustion was setting upon the back of his neck.

“ _Jen. Jen. Jen. Jen,”_ his phone rang.

“Evening.”

 “ _Hey, hot shot; how was your day?”_

“Not too bad,” he bookmarked his place and closed the laptop lid. “Got a good deal of reading done.”

_“Yeah?”_

“You’d probably like the one set. It’s about the ethics one can be confronted with in criminal law. You know, disclosure and candor, conflict of interest, plea bargains; defendants…”

_“I’m intrigued, genuinely; but there’s no way that I could pay attention to that tonight.”_

“Right, it’s Thursday. How is she?”

_“It was a good day. New therapy starts next week.”_

Matt rubbed his face and rummaged through his fridge for something that could resemble dinner. “And church?”

_“It was.”_

“Uh-huh,” he replied knowing exactly what she meant. “Did you at least play nicely with others?”

Jen said, flat, “ _I generally play nice all of the time. Just not with you._ ”

“Oh, I see,” he snorted, withdrawing a half-eaten carton of takeout noodles. “I get to the privilege of dealing with your attitude.”

 _“Someone has to for obvious reasons,”_ her macabre joke rang in his ear. _“So, how’s Beth?”_

Matt stood and shut the fridge door with more force than he intended. “Oh, so Foggy heard that, did he?”  
_Why would Foggy do that to me knowing that she was going to ask about it?_

_“I’m going to say from some personal experience that you aren’t always the quietest individual in the bedroom.”_

“Oh, excuse me for enjoying myself.”

 _“Ooh, someone’s a grouchy bastard tonight,”_ she feigned being hurt. _“What’s got your panties in a twist?”_

“I just don’t want you being bitchy to me about it.”

Jen scoffed, _“Oh, I’m sorry; that’s what we’ve been doing to each other practically since we met. Jesus.”_

“Yeah, well, when – when are you going to grow up? Huh? Everything’s all fun and games for you. All the time.”

 _“Wow,”_   she snapped back. “ _Excuse me. I’m going to end this conversation before either one of us says something we’re going to regret. My advice, though, Matthew?”_

“Great. Can’t wait,” his temper boiling over.

_“Instead of shoving your head up your ass and getting pissed at me for trying to make you feel better the way I usually do, why don’t you think about this:  Are you really pissed at me or are you pissed at yourself for that Freudian slip you let out before she slipped out of your bed?”_

* _click*_

“Damn it,” he growled. Appetite lost, the noodles were tossed in the trash and Matt plopped on the couch with a scowl scrawled upon his face. His roommate entered not long after with a case of beer in hand.  
“Seriously? You had to tell Jen about last night?”

Bewildered, his eyes moved to and fro and his brows knit together. “Yeah. Because you messed up, Matt. I told her knowing she was going to call because maybe, just maybe, Yvette meant enough for you to call and apologize. Mac would be the one to make you realize that out of the two of us.”

“You don’t need to get her into my dating life!”

“Sorry, buddy,” Foggy offered. “Mac knows more about your romantic ventures than I do since you both talk about it…I was just trying to help.”

“No, look…I’m – I’m sorry. I’m tired and I’ve been reading all night,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh, I didn’t mean to snap.”

“That’s good,” Foggy perked up and handed Matt a beer. “I brought home refreshments after dinner!”

 

_The Following Week_

Natural, gray light filtered in through the windows, a soft illumination in her office. Tranquility was something of a necessity in the design of the space: everything from its color scheme of natural browns, slate, greens, and the additions of blues reminded her of Hocking Hills, a state park back in Ohio.  
When Mr. Duquesne turned over the office designer to Jen, she gave three photographs to him: Old Man’s Cave in with mist in autumn, Ash Cave at dawn in the summer, and Cedar Falls in the spring. The designer ogled over the photographic inspiration and immediately set to work to try and utilize them into the design.

_“These shots are magnificent. I can see why you chose them. Something powerful; yet grounding…fixed, but moveable. The masculine and the feminine. Absolutely. I’ll get right to work. You must tell me where you found these!”_

_“Me.”_

_“You?”_

_“I took them. They’re from back home. When I wanted to run away, this is where I would go and sit with my best friend. There are good memories there.”_

A reel of those memories began to play in her mind. Poised at her window and gazing at the city around her, Jen chuckled to herself at the juxtaposition of what she could physically see versus the sight of memory.

 _“Miss MacDougall?”_ her phone announced.

“Tia, what can I do for you?”

_“You have a call from Mr. Nelson. Would you like me to transfer him back to you?”_

Jen sighed. “Of course, thank you.”

With two very short, abrupt rings, Jen commanded, “Phone: answer and use speaker.”

_“Mac?”_

“Hey, Foggy. Is everything alright? You usually just call my cell phone.”

 _“Oh. I tried. I went to voicemail twice,”_ Jen pulled her phone from her pocket and shook her head, taking it off of its silent setting. _“I know you’re still pissed at Matt because he hasn’t talked to you since Thursday. Is there anything I can do to help?”_

“Nope. He’s got to get his own head out of his ass. He put it there himself. But I do have a question for you while I have you on the phone.”

“ _Shoot._ ”

She leaned a shoulder onto the plate glass and sipped her coffee. “I have a function that I have to attend next week.”

_“Is this that Halloween shindig Matt was talking about?”_

“It’s the same. Would you go with me?”

_“Me? I thought you invited Matt to go.”_

Jen shrugged and took another sip, “He said he was going. Promised me, even. I never extended the invitation; we had just talked about it. I would prefer to go with someone that I’ll have a good time with and won’t make me feel like an asshole the entire night.”

_“Mac…”_

“I’m serious, Foggy.”

_“Alright, alright. I’ll go. Once you two stubborn a-holes are done sulking, maybe we can all go out to dinner or something?”_

“Sure thing, Fog. But he has to apologize first this time. He’s the one that’s PMS-ing.”

_“I’m not getting in the middle of one of your spats. I’ve known you both long enough to have my self-preservation kick in. Still good for Thursday?”_

“Yeah,” she turned and walked to her desk. “You sure you want to cook? I don’t mind.”

_“No, no; I said that I was going to cook and it’s my turn, anyway. You wanted Shephard’s Pie and that’s what you shall have if we have the time, my lady.”_

Jen chuckled and a genuine smile pulled at her lips. “Thank you, kind sir. I’ll talk to later, yeah?”

_“Yeah. Get to work, slacker.”_

“Love you, too, Fog.”

 

_Monday_

“Mr. Duquesne, welcome to New York,” Jen stood from her desk and extended her hand.

He shook her hand and then pulled her into a quick hug, “Jennifer! You’re looking wonderful, as always. You’ve done some amazing work in the near two years you’ve been here, ma’am.”

“Thank you, sir,” she beamed. Jen had never felt nervous about being around Duquesne when she was in Chicago, but since taking over the New York office she was apprehensive that he would find some great fault with what she had done.  
“It’s been an adventure, surely. But I am beyond grateful for the opportunity to work here for the company. Would you like a tour?”

“Absolutely. Let’s see some of the magic at work. Then you and I have to talk business.”

 

“Everything that you’re doing here, Jennifer, it’s wonderful. Your staff works well for you, the restaurant has reservations booked six months in advance; oh, and your wait staff!” he gestured a kiss of perfection into the air. “I couldn’t have done it better!”

“I learned from the best,” she offered him a seat near the window. “Can’t claim it all for myself.”

“You have intuition,” his eye sparkled as he sat, “and it serves you well in this industry.”

“Do you want to see the books or…”

“No, no; I’ve already seen them. I downloaded them Friday and read through them over the weekend. The board is quite pleased with your work.”  
“How are you?”

“Oh, I’m fine.” Jen sat opposite him. Tia knocked politely and came in with a tray of coffee and tea. She served them both their preferred beverages before she headed back to her desk.

“Are you now,” his tone skeptical.

Jen popped her brows up sarcastically and sipped some of her coffee. “Of course. I have to be.”

“I’m going to talk to you as a friend and a father figure, Jen.”  
“You didn’t take off long after the accident in January before you came back to work. You asked me not to help and fly out for the funerals. You went out to San Francisco and I hear you got into the same kind of mischief you get yourself into here,” he folded his hands in his lap. “And I’ve been told you’ve got yourself back into martial arts again.”

She pointed a finger at him, “Now, the martial arts is helping. It provides order and discipline.”

“Jen. You’re an amazing employee. But at times, I view you as if you are my daughter and I care about what’s happening with you.”

“I still have Matt and Foggy. I’m not alone.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it.”

Jen leaned back and sighed. “I’m coping.”

“That may be. But I worry that you haven’t given yourself time to grieve and I don’t want that to sneak up on you.”

Warmth radiated through her hands and steam swirled over her cup’s rim.  “Mr. Duquesne, I have days where I’m sad; days where I’m angry…hell, even days when I have to force myself out of bed because it – it’s hard. But I’m dealing with it in my own way.”

“You’ll tell me if it ever gets too hard, right?”

“Yes,” she affirmed, the mirth gone from both their expressions. “It’s not like that. I promise. I’m pretty sure Nelson and Murdock would raise me from the dead just to beat my ass if I ever did something like that.”

“Speaking of,” he thankfully changed the subject. “I noticed that both of them are listed as your plus one for Thursday night.”

“Oh, that’s a mistake,” Jen waved him off. She filled her cup up and offered more tea. These acts of niceties were a welcome distraction and were a sure way to know that Duquesne was genuinely happy about how a meeting was going. Jen had sat through plenty of ghastly meetings and conferences under his tutelage where the guest would be sent off with only a handshake.  
“I’ll have Tia go and make the adjustment.”

“Is Mr. Murdock the lucky gentleman to accompany you?”

Jen gazed out the window, pensive. “No, Foggy’s going with me.”

“As a creature of habit, you’ve always brought Matt with you to these little soirees.”

She smoothed out her skirt and brushed off some lint. “Sometimes change is good.”

“Sometimes it isn’t. What happened?”

“It’s a childish argument that I’m not budging on. He was rude.”

Mr. Duquesne leaned forward and had a wry smile on his face, “And when haven’t you two been rude to each other, as far as I’ve seen and heard the pair of you interact?”

“It’ll pass eventually. Foggy’s been working him over to get him to apologize. But if he’s going to act like a sulking toddler, then I’m going with someone that’ll be much more fun.”

“Again, little fatherly advice: sometimes you need to suck it up and apologize first.”

“Sometimes I’m the boss and he’s got to accept that, too.”

_Thursday_

“You should be going tonight, buddy,” Foggy reprimanded from his bedroom. “You always go to the shindigs that her boss goes to, I go to the more low key stuff.”

Matt sat at the kitchen table reading at his laptop. “Mike Duquesne’s a nice guy, Fog. Just be yourself. You’ll be fine. What are you so worried about?”

“I’m a snack to people like that, Matt! I mean…look at me! They’re a bunch of predators and I’m the innocent, fluffy bunny in this scenario! They’re going to tear me to shreds.”

“Jen’s going to take care of you. She always does. I’ve never been around someone so aware of other people in a room until I met her. Nothing bad’s going to happen.”

Foggy peeked out from behind his door. “You say that, and then I’m going to say something incredibly idiotic around all of these business leaders and then Mac’s going to have to swoop in and save my ass, and – and then! They’re all going to look at her like, ‘What’s the matter with you?’ and I’m going to feel awful.”

Sensing his best friend was clean shaven and smelling of the expensive soap Jen bought him for his birthday, Matt shook his head at Foggy’s antics and continued reading. “She – she doesn’t want me there, Foggy. She’s mad at me.”

“That’s because you’re being a bull-headed bastard and haven’t apologized to her yet.”

“Ouch,” he gripped at his heart. “I didn’t know you were taking comeback lessons with Jen. That was brutal.”

“Truth hurts, buddy. Want another dose of it?”

“No, but I have a feeling you’re going to hand out another because she’d be doing the same, so…”

“You promised,” Foggy sniped with a wagging finger. Matt had stilled and inhaled slowly though his nose. “Ah. Thought I didn’t know about that? Too bad, Murdock.”

“If I go, it’ll just be worse.”

“So what if she doesn’t want you there? You’ve become a reliable force at these functions for her. She even says so. You remember things that she forgets and remind her about people she’s met once. I don’t know any of that secret stuff about the A.D.A. or the Mayor’s wife…or – or any of that! You know what I know? Her staff. They _love_ me. I’m the life of the party when I show up to those gigs.”  
“The point is,” he adjusted his suit jacket and tie and nabbed his keys, “Mac is just as stubborn as you. Sometimes, more so. You two are so similar and dissimilar, it makes my head spin. For the life of me, I cannot figure out how the two of you haven’t got together yet…and – and then the pair of you fight like this and I’m reminded of a reason why.”  
“I’m going. Because I said I would. But you and I both know that sometimes what Mac wants isn’t what she needs…and you still promised.”

 

The town car pulled up to the Metropolitan Museum of Art not long before six-thirty. When his door was opened, he slipped out and walked to the entrance, presenting his invitation to the staff at the door.  
The Great Hall’s stone columns and arches were cast in shades of gold and red while guests moved about the grand space, chatting politely with each other. The black-tie event brought out not only the business elite of the city, but socialites and more money than Foggy could hope to make in a lifetime.

Feeling suddenly out of place, Nelson reached for a glass of alcohol, not caring what it was, from the bar as he passed. Gaze moving upward, he focused on the beautiful architecture and domes overhead and felt more at peace.

“Looking good, Mr. Nelson,” a familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Mac! I have no idea why you invit…wow,” his mouth dropped. “You…look…”

Jen looked down at herself and propped up a brow. “Is it not enough? Jesus, I was really trying to find something that would work for this event and…”

“Stunning. Is there more on the back?” Jen twirled slowly around, scooping her hair off her neck to show off the back of the dress.

“Oh. Good. I was worried. Duquesne went off to do things today and wasn’t around for me to bounce ideas off of. I figured since tomorrow’s Halloween and it’s fall…you know?”

Floor length with her heels on, the form fitting fabric blended from navy blue at the bust to black at her feet with a generous v-cut on the bodice. The exposed back was covered in a sheer material with beads and stitching to make a beautiful scene of barren trees to go with her theme. The chain from her necklace glinted in the light and the stones in her compass amulet shimmered with her movement.

“I liked the back,” she admitted, adjusting her hair. “It makes the scars look like they belong.”

“I think you look beautiful.”

Bashful, she smiled. “Thanks. Shall we walk around a bit? I have to go and talk to some people.”

Foggy offered his elbow and she linked her arm with his. “Don’t know how great I’m going to be at not making a fool of myself, but lead the way, my lady.”

A sextet was staged over near the staircase and provided musical entertainment while guests and patrons mingled about. A small dance floor had been laid out for those that wished to partake as conversation floated in the air. Jen greeted people along the way while she made her rounds politely introducing Franklin Nelson as her date for the evening.

“Mr. Katzinger,” Jen beamed at the broad-shouldered man and took his hand to shake it politely. ”Wonderful to see you again. I am so glad that you could make it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he asserted, kissing the back of her hand. “You’ve outdone yourself again, Miss MacDougall. The charity balls and galas that you host on behalf of Duquesne Enterprises are becoming quite the New York affair.”

“Thank you. I would be remiss if I didn’t introduce to you my date for the evening, Franklin Nelson,” she gestured to her counterpart warmly.

“You can call me Foggy,” he smirked and shook his hand.

A twinkle glinted in this eye, “Pleased to meet you. If you’re here with Miss MacDougall, I’m sure you’re in for an evening.”

“Oh…no…” Foggy stammered. “She’s – she’s my sister! She’s the brain and I’m the brawn…only she’s the brawn, too.”

“Regardless,” Katzinger smirked. “Jen’s a fiend in more ways than one. How many of these investors have you convinced to show up tonight?”

“Only the ones who matter,” she tilted her champagne glass in his direction. “Mr. Duquesne stated he was going to show up a little later during the reception and assures me that he will be here before dinner. Shall I find you when he arrives?”

“Oh, I’m sure I’ll run into Mike between now and dinner. Thank you for the invitation again. Tom and I are having a wonderful time.” Just as promptly as he’d appeared, he disappeared back into the throng.

“How can you do this,” Foggy complained through a practiced smile. “There’s so much money in this room and I’m a broke law student.”

“Practice,” she divulged with a pat to his elbow. “I don’t let money bother me.”

“Seriously? There are people here that make more in a month than I can hope to make in a year.”

Keen eyes surveyed the room and digested information that each individual was willingly announcing to the public:  
_Here with a mistress, inebriated and willing to spend, little too eager on shaving and nicked themselves; fawning over the bartenders._  
“Everyone here isn’t perfect, Fog. For most of them, money is the only way they will ever have power. It’s not in their constitution, it’s not in their resolve; it’s not in the nature of their being. Other people here have power of intellect; of words, and those are the people that I have to make sure to entertain. Money is easy in this line of work,” she shrugged again. “The people that hold real power are the ones worth looking for. They’re usually the more reserved at these events.”

“No way,” he brushed her off, the pair moved toward the opposite end of the hall. “You totally read that in some philosophy book.”

Jen laughed and pointed at someone standing against one of the columns near the stairs. “Okay. Her. The one in the green dress with the silk gloves. See her?” He nodded, eyes following her sightline. “What do you see?”

“A wallflower.”

“That’s what you’re supposed to see,” she teased. “Look past what’s the front and dig beyond it.”

“You sound more like Sherlock Holmes than a CEO.”

Jen snorted. “In that case, and my case…knowledge is power. That woman is an aspiring legal assistant at a rather prominent firm here in the city. No, I won’t tell you which one. Not yet,” she winked. “She’s currently in bed with one of the partners in the firm and has climbed the ladder, both physically and metaphorically speaking, to get where she is in the company.”

“Jesus! You can get all of that from just looking at her?”

Jen choked on a sip of her champagne, “Oh, no, silly. That’s what I know. What I can observe is the way that she keeps scanning the crowd. There are two particular figures that she keeps in her line of sight from her spot over there: the partner she’s screwing for status and then the other law partner she’s screwing for fun.”

“Oh. My. God. Seriously?”

“Yep,” she popped the ‘p’ for added effect. “Near two years I’ve been here, I’ve had to learn how this jungle works and thrives. I feel like a zookeeper on the other side of the glass most days.”

“But this is your life!  All of this,” he spun around. “How can you feel like you’re not a part of this?”

“I work it, Fog. But it’s not me. One of the things that Duquesne made sure that I understood. Keeps me sharp and focused, not in whatever seductive, delicate, upper class and bourgeoisie bullshit they concoct for themselves. It’s how you survive and thrive, my friend.”

“Mac, let me tell you how glad I am that we’re friends,” she laughed at him. “And how you would have been amazing during the feudalistic state.”

“Nah,” she groaned. “I’m a woman, after all. Look at all the women who had to deal with crap because they weren’t born a man. And me? Too smart for my own good. They would have burned me for being a witch.”

 

“You’ve been checking your phone quite a bit. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Foggy slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Just checking on Matt.”

“Why…is he sick?”

“Sick in the head, maybe. But no. Guilt tripping him mostly.”

“He’ll apologize when he’s ready; he usually does.”

“No. You’re usually the one that apologizes first anytime you two have one of these moments and then he carries on like normal. I told him he needs to get over it and man up.”

“Foggy…”

“No! You always apologize first. Always. It’s – it’s like you know he’s not going to unless you do it first to prove that it’s warranted and I don’t think you did anything wrong. I’m not budging on this.”

“Aye, aye, skipper. Whatever you say,” Jen nodded, taking her beverage from the bar top.

 

Idly stood near the band, Jen surveyed the room and pondered over the successes thus far in the evening. An hour into cocktail service and nearly a million dollars had been raised for the LaDuq Charity with more of the high rollers coming in fashionably late.  
Planning and executing these functions didn’t bother her; they weren’t one-hundred-percent her job but she liked to have a hand in the planning. What she didn’t care for was the actual event. Jen never felt like she belonged even with the success she had with the company or with her salary. She was making close to $130,000 a year now and that was with taking cuts in pay to ensure that her staff got the benefits they needed.

“Jennifer,” a warm voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Mr. Duquesne,” she turned and gave him a polite hug. His cologne was clean and reminded her of the ocean, though she didn’t know why. “How was the traffic on the way over?”

“It’s New York. It was awful. I’ve got to say, when you said you wanted to host our gala at The Met Museum, I was skeptical that we’d be able to utilize such a space to its potential. But look! How many guests?”

“Six hundred for the cocktail reception here in the Great Hall with one hundred and fifty being served for dinner in the Temple of Dendur.”

“And why the Temple?”

“Have you not seen it yet, sir? I’m sure if I asked the staff, they’d allow an early venture down the Sackler Wing to let you see the space. It’s beautiful.”

With Jen on his arm, the pair made their way to the staff and Jen asked if they were able to view the dinner space prior to service. Making their way through the museum, they went through a doorway that opened up into a large space with floor to ceiling, glass windows on one side, a reflection pool around the perimeter of the space, tall ceilings, beautiful, ambient light being cast on the walls, and a stone edifice rising up toward the back of the room.

“Dendur is south of Luxor in Egypt,” she divulged, walking him over to the bride. The Temple appeared to float on a platform of stone in the middle of the floor.  
“It was built sometime in the Roman-Era when Augustus ruled and it was made to honor Isis and the sons of a nearby ruler. If you look at the base, there are carvings of aquatic plants and above the gate, there’s the sun disk of Horus. There’s reliefs in the back that depict worship to Osiris.”  
“In the sixties, the Temple was relocated due to the construction of a dam and Lake Nasser submerging more land as consequence. The United States, at the time, helped Egypt save other monuments from being destroyed from the subsequent flooding and presented the temple to the US as a gift. Jackie Kennedy helped represent us, if memory serves. In any case, the temple was packed into over six hundred crates and shipped over here while several institutions tried to outbid each other for the opportunity to house the Temple in their establishments.”  
Jen stood in the middle of the space and slowly turned about, taking in the view of the ancient history before her. “In ’67, New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art won the bid and it was installed in this wing in ’78. The architects designed the pool to represent the Nile and the sloped wall of glass to represent the cliffs the Temple sat on in its original location. I seem to remember the guide saying something about the glass ceiling being designed to filter light similarly to the way it’s perceived in Nubia…but I could be making that up.”

“Bit of a fan, are we?”

Jen smiled and stared at the hieroglyphs. “Is it obvious? I love history. There’s so much that’s happened that we only have glimpses of.”

“I would think, based on your life experiences, you would be one that’s willing to leave the past behind. It’s good to see that you embrace it.”

“I need to learn from it,” Jen inhaled sharply. “If I don’t, I only have myself to blame for allowing those things to repeat themselves.”  
“In any case, I find that there’s a certain opulence associated with Ancient Egypt that we as Americans haven’t let go of yet. Potential donors may be more inclined to dig deeper into their pocketbooks. I also find a great solace with these things of from the ancient world.”

“Is this going to be some grand dig at me?” he joked.

“No, it’s not. I – I just think that if we can look and learn from these natural achievements in splendor and move them across oceans to be viewed and revered for new generations and new people, then…then maybe humanity has some shred of hope, you know?”

“I think you might be surprised, Jennifer. People do that sometimes.”

“I heard that Marie wasn’t feeling well and didn’t make the trip down this morning. I’m sorry.”

“My wife always catches a nasty bug around this time of year. Her sister is over to take care of her while I’m away. She sends her love and hopes that you may come visit sometime during the holidays.”

“I think I can make that work. I’ll check with Tia tomorrow. Shall we go back to our guests?”

“Yes, I think so. Thanks for bringing me in here. You have quite the eye.”

 

“Everything is copacetic for dinner, yes?” Jen overheard the event planner say to her staff. “We have Miss MacDougall and her plus one at the front most table with Mr. Duquesne and his plus one and the present members of the board.”

“Ah, Sasha,” Jen interjected, “Mr. Duquesne’s wife is not in attendance tonight. I’m not sure if that helps you at all with space management…”

Her brown eyes scanned over her list and she shook her head. “No, Mr. Duquesne called this afternoon and adjusted the reservation for his plus one. They both signed in with the doorman this evening.”

_He changed his plus one? Who did I omit from the list that he’d end up bringing? The man’s got about as many friends as there are stars in the sky. No matter. I’m sure I’ll meet them after the speech and dinner._

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of Duquesne Enterprises, New York, thank you for attending our charity gala this evening, hosted here at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.” Polite applause filled the room. “My name is Jennifer MacDougall, CEO of Duquesne Enterprises, New York and have both the honor and privilege to introduce the gentleman that helps to make all of this possible.”  
“His entire business empire has had these things at its foundation: do what you love, help each other grow, take care of your own and leave the world better than you found it. Please help me in welcoming to the stage the President of the LaDuq Foundation and the owner and entrepreneur of Duquesne Enterprises: Mr. Michael Duquesne.”

An eruption of thunderous applause, dinner guests leapt to their feet. Mr. Duquesne stood at the head table, waved, and then made his way to the stage next to the reflecting pool. He shook Jen’s hand politely before taking her into a warm embrace.  
“Thank you, Jennifer. This is wonderful.”

Taking center stage, he cleared his throat and waved to his to the guests again. “The LaDuq Foundation, founded in 2007, has kept the values Jennifer mentioned at its heart in helping families that are combating childhood leukemia. They were the guiding principles my wife and I decided to use in our family because they were already such a part of who we were as people.”  
“My daughter, Lauren, was diagnosed with leukemia when she was seven. My wife, Marie, and I were devastated when the doctor gave us the diagnosis. Not Lauren. She looked at us both in the eye and said, ‘It’s okay. I’ll fight it’. And she did. Rounds of chemotherapy, radiation, an implant surgery…by the time she was nine and a half, the doctors told us that she was finally in remission.”

Jen cleared her throat in a vain attempt to dislodge the lump that was forming when he continued.

“Later, she woke up and told us she wasn’t feeling well. Instead of spending her sixteenth birthday getting her driver’s license, we spent it in the hospital because her leukemia had come back with vengeance. Again, Lauren looked at us and said, ‘It’s okay’. She was always so concerned in making sure that we knew that everything  was going to be okay. Everything was going to work out.”  
“She fought hard and with everything that she had. She graduated high school as valedictorian and walked across that stage to accept her diploma with a cane. You see, she’d been bound to a wheelchair most of her senior year and she told us…well…it was more like she told us off,” he chuckled, “that she was going to walk across that stage.”

Jen knew what was coming and bowed her head, a sign of reverence concerning the very personal nature of his speech. She didn’t know how he could give this speech every year. It tore at her heart and this year, considering how much of her family she had lost in the accident, the pain weighed heavily on her bones.

“That July, she asked Marie and I to talk about what was next. She’d done nearly every treatment under the sun and wanted spend time enjoying life outside of the hospital again.  
“She said, ‘Mom; Dad, I’m not getting better and I know that.’ She reminded us that the doctors told her that the cancer had since spread to other parts of her body and that, after her last round of tests, treatment had left her sterile.”  
“Lauren said, ‘The money you would have given me for graduating or college or work…I want to help people. I want to help the people that have to fight like I did. Kids. I want parents to know that someone cares. Someone knows what they’re going through. That someone is thinking about them right now. Let them know that I wanted to make the world a little better; a little brighter.”

His voice broke and he wiped the back of his hand at his eyes. Jen stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, “She’s very proud of you. Do you need help?”

Duquesne shook his head and asked if she would stay with him as he finished and she nodded.

“We spent July, August, and September away from work and traveled around the country with Lauren. She loved nature and we made a point to hit as many National Parks as she was able. When we were home, she spent time with her younger cousins and would read to them nearly every night that they were visiting. Before her cancer had come back, Lauren was deeply invested into the sciences with plans to go to med school and research childhood cancers. She was, genuinely, one of the strongest and selfless persons I’ve had the privilege to know and I am humbled with the knowledge that she is my daughter.”  
“LaDuq, a nickname her classmates gave her in school when they were taking their French classes, encapsulates everything that Lauren hoped to do in the future for children that battle cancer. This foundation has helped families all over this country that don’t know what to do or where to turn. Lauren is the guiding light and it is with your generosity that the LaDuq Foundation is able to continue to pay for treatments and help fund research projects. Thank you for attending this evening and please, consider a donation to our foundation. Thank you.”

Applause rang out again. Duquesne turned to Jen and reached out for an embrace. “I’ve got you, Mr. Duquesne. Come on, let’s get you to the table. I’ll go out to the Great Hall and check on those guests.”

“Thank you, Jennifer. For everything. This has been wonderful.” He offered his arm and the pair exited the stage signaling dinner service to begin. Once their feet were on the floor, he made his way to the table and Jen left to go snoop in the hall.

“Mr. Duquesne,” Foggy shook his hand on return. “That was very moving, sir. I didn’t know about your daughter; I’m sorry, Mac doesn’t really speak of her.”

“She wouldn’t, not really,” he replied kindly at his seat. “They’re very similar in many respects and I see echoes of Lauren in her. Finding her at the conference and hearing how she approaches life and business despite the hardships she’s experienced…I knew deep down in my heart that Lauren was guiding me to her.”

“Speaking of, where did she go?”

“Jennifer went to check on the other guests still in the Hall. I’m assuming that’s where my guest is at the moment. There’s a better bar there than in here.”

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Jen announced through the microphone. “On behalf of Duquesne Enterprises and Mr. Duquesne who is here tonight representing the LaDuq Foundation, we thank you for coming to our cocktail reception this evening.”  
“If you wish to make a donation towards funding childhood cancer treatments and research, please see one of our associates on either side of the Hall. The final round of drinks will be served by eight-fifteen to ensure that you are able to continue with your evening. Thank you.”

She was asked to dance by a few of the more daring donors and she did so with a well-practiced smile and courteous conversation. Schmoozing wasn’t necessarily something that she relished doing, but it was for a good cause and Jen knew she could suck it up for a bit longer.

A quick bit of maneuvering, the flash of a congenial smile here and there brought Jen to the bar where she conveyed directions. She stood off by one of the pillars and heaved a heavy sigh, her eyes closed.  
_I should go back to the dinner. I should. It’s expected. I have to go make an appearance and save face. I’d much rather go home and hide for the rest of the evening because…_

“Miss MacDougall,” a baritone voice interrupted her thoughts and made her eyes shoot open.

“You have a lot of balls showing up here tonight.”

Jen spun around to the opposite side of the pillar and found Matt Murdock standing quietly cane in hand and shaking his head.

“Yeah, well…when your best friend has been giving you the guilt treatment for the past two weeks…”

“So you’re here because Foggy guilted you into coming?”

“…And you are coerced into going by your friend’s boss... I’m his plus one for the evening.”

“You’re shitting me,” her voice flat.

“Nope. From what I’ve gathered, Foggy called the office and talked to Duquesne about it; they’ve been in kahoots all week,” he divulged, his hands twisting the grip at his handle. “Duquesne showed up at Columbia today to collect me.”

A loud snort cut through their tense silence and Jen quickly covered her mouth. “Matt,” she tried not to giggle. “That’s absurd.”

Matt smirked and continued, “Tell me about it. I thought I was being kidnapped for a hot second and then I thought about how Foggy was going to worry and you were going to beat my ass for being so stupid.”

“Is that so?”

“Then I heard Duquesne’s voice and realized it wasn’t as shady as I was concocting.”

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. “That aside, why are you here, Matt? You don’t have to be.”

“I don’t?” he furrowed his brow and leaned forward. “Jen, I promised you that I’d be here. I know that promises…they – they’re important to you. And just because I’m being an ass doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t show up.”

“So what about Foggy’s nagging and guilt trips?”

“It’s not been pleasant, I can assure you. But I had every intention of being here. You may not have wanted me here…but if you needed me…if – if you felt like everything was overwhelming and needed help…I would have been right there beside you to offer a hand. No questions asked.” Her silence wasn’t unsettling to him; Matt knew he’d hurt her and wanted her to know that he was whole-heartedly apologetic.  
“Jen, I messed up and snapped at you when I shouldn’t have. You knew that Yvette wasn’t going to work out because you called it: she was too much like Beth and I didn’t listen. I was too head strong about it because I wanted to be right and have it work out. You didn’t do anything wrong. And you were right: I wasn’t mad at you…I was mad at myself for screwing up another relationship.”  
“Look, I’m trying to say that I’m sorry and…”

Strong arms enveloped him quickly. Reflexively, his head buried itself in the crook of her neck and arms wrapped around her back.

“I’m sorry, too,” she whispered. “I was mad and it was Thursday and I kind of argued with the priest and that’s not your fault either. Are we okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, pulling back from her. “We’re good. How’s Foggy been doing at keeping up with your party goers?”

“He’s trying,” she laughed, wrapping Matt’s hand around her arm. “Our blond friend had his first panic attack five minutes into being here.”

“I suppose we should go relieve him of his duty. Plus, I don’t think the CEO of Duquesne Enterprises, New York would appreciate it if I skipped out on my meal that her company paid for.”

 

Duquesne elbowed Nelson when he spied Jen and Matt making their way back into the Temple room for dinner.

“About time,” Foggy nodded. “She’s not strangling him, so that’s a bonus.”

“They’re not a bad looking couple,” Duquesne pointed out, both he and Foggy tracking their movement from across the room.

“I guess not. She’s like my sister and I love her to death, but the relationship that she has with Matt is different. They clicked much faster than she and I did originally. I asked her once,” Duquesne nodded in appreciation of the conversation, “why they never ended up dating or getting together.”

“Oh? And what did she say?”

“That they’re both creatures of habit and don’t want to make things worse.”

He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s a shame. I think that they could be good for each other; they are for the most part. If only they could see that.”

“Well, she’s going to have to do the seeing for the both of them,” Foggy retorted quickly to realize he’d just joked about his best friend’s blindness. “Oh no…I’m going to hell,” he examined his drink and frowned. “This is much stronger than I thought.”

Mr. Duquesne chuckled and leaned forward on his elbows, “Your secret’s safe with me, Foggy. After all, we’re partners in crime.”

“This is true,” Foggy lifted his glass and the gentlemen toasted each other.

When the prodigal pair made their way to the table, Jen guided his hand to his seat and Mr. Duquesne stood up and pulled her chair out for her.  
“Foggy; Mr. Duquesne,” Jen eyed them playfully from her side of the table.

“Well, hello,” Duquesne smiled. “Fancy you two running into each other.”

“Uh-huh,” her reply flat. Matt placed his hand on her forearm and laughed. “You two think you’re so sly.” Duquesne feigned innocence, but Jen’s eyes bored into Foggy’s.  
“Mr. Nelson?” she watched him squirm.

“Matt, a little help?”

“No way…I just got back into her good graces.”

Duquesne and Foggy began entertaining the table with stories and Jen marveled at the room around them.  
“Want to see the room?”

The radar sense he had grown accustomed to using stretched out in all directions and formed a basic blueprint of the area. He could map out the slanted windows, the glass ceiling overhead, the large blocks of sandstone and the reflecting pool. But the number of chatting people, the sound of silverware scraping against plates, the chewing…he was having problems blocking it out.  
“Please.”

Jen took his opened hand and began painting and drawing the room in his palm, quietly illustrating it into living color. His head tilted upwards and his head bobbed up and down with each bit of information she passed to his ear.  
The more he focused on taking her information and designing the space around him in his mind, the farther off the auxiliary sounds in the room became. The clinking of china. The conversations. Out of focus. Away.  
A summer storm creeping in; rolling thunder in the distance. The power and the glory and a voice in the rain.

“Look,” Duquesne whispered to Nelson, he pointed across the table.

“Oh, yeah. They do that.”

“Alright, I’ll bite. What are they doing?”

“She has Matt see the room through her eyes. Mac’s telling him about how it looks, describing it. She uses his palm like a canvas and draws shapes and things so he can interpret them. She’s really, really good at it and I think it helps him, you know?”

“How’s that?”

“The way he tells it…she paints things so vividly with her words that he can almost see it as we do.”

Duquesne pulled back and beamed. “That’s amazing. Does she do that everywhere that you guys go?”

Foggy finished his soup and shook his head. “No. Places that she loves to go, places that he asks about, pictures in books…it’s just some quirky thing that they do.”

 

The board and Mr. Duquesne congratulated Jen on a spectacular and charitable evening before taking their leave for the night.  
“The night’s still young,” Foggy shrugged on the sidewalk and helped her into her jacket. “I can skip out on class tomorrow if I need to.”

“Foggy,” she warned with a grin. “You need to go to class. You’re almost done.”

“Thanks, mom,” he rolled his eyes. “You want us to take you home first?”

She hugged them both and placed a kiss on each of their cheeks. “Nope. Oscar’s going to take you two home. I have some work to do at the office before I call it a night. I’m riding with Tia.”

“I think I’m going to study some before I hit the sack,” Matt divulged. “I have a sneaking suspicion I’m going to be put on the spot tomorrow in one of the forums.”

Foggy groaned and shuffled into the car, “You always say that.”

“Yeah! And I’ve got a ninety-eight percent success rate on that gut feeling. Oscar,” he slid in, “will you take Foggy home first and then drop me off somewhere else?”

“O-of c-c-c-c-course, sir.”

“Take care of them, Oscar!” Jen shut the door and shook her head.

 

Tia popped her head into the office and made sure the coast was clear, “Jen?”

“Yep?”

“I know you hate these functions, but you were amazing tonight. You’ve helped a lot of people by putting this on.”

“I hope so,” she sighed, leaning her hip on her desk. Coffee was brewing in the corner of her office and the warm smell filled the room. “She was so young and she wanted to help so many people.”

“He’d be proud of you, you know.”

“Who’s that?”

“Danny. Dom. Mr. Bonner…I know you miss them. They’re proud of you, wherever they are.”

The weight she’d been feeling on her chest all night began to break. “Thank you, Tia.”

“I have someone here to take you home when you’re ready. I’m going to head home and get some sleep.” Tia smiled.

Jen looked over her assistant with fondness. Her bronze skin and cute black bob complemented her white dress that she wore for the evening, though she’d ditched her heels as soon as they got into the office.  
“Thank you. Take the morning off. See if you can go out to brunch with your girlfriend tomorrow. Come in at noon?”

“Thanks!” she chirped. “Though you should probably do the same, you know. Get some rest. Come in late. What time did you get here this morning?”

“Four-thirty. I was living a little considering it was going to be a late night,” she poked fun at herself. “Goodnight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jen heard her leave when she poured herself a cup of coffee and when she sat at her desk there was a rustle of fabric to alert her of her escort home.  
“I have about twenty minutes more of work before I’ll be ready to go home, Roscoe. Thank you for waiting.”

“Pretty sure that Roscoe went home already.”

Jen didn’t look up from her paperwork and felt the annoying tug of another grin on her face. “I thought you said you were going to go study.”

The subtle clicks from his cane collapsing resounded and he moved to pour himself a coffee. “I studied the text in my mind the whole way to the apartment, to Columbia, and then back here. Arguably at this point, I’m prepared or I’m not.”  
“I’m not entirely to blame here. Your assistant had a feeling that if one of us wasn’t here, you’d stay all night and into tomorrow. She was encouraging us to come back after dinner.”

“Uh-huh,” she folded her hands on her desk and watched him traverse the room to sit opposite her. “What makes you think that I’m not going to stay here anyway, regardless of your person being here?”

Matt unbuttoned his collar, undid his tie and hung his glasses off his shirt. “Nothing. You’ll do what you want. I’m here for the coffee.”

“That’s good.”

“And a dance.”

“A dance?”

“Sure. It’s become a bit of a tradition at these things. I always dance with you at some point in the night. Foggy dances at your staff parties.”

The pen which had effortlessly glided across the paper stopped and Jen snorted. “You are absolutely ridiculous.”

“I’ve heard the stories. I’m just saying it’s like…good luck or something at this point. You said so yourself.”

Not to be unnerved, MacDougall continued to finish her paperwork while Murdock sat drinking his coffee. A quick click of keys and a swipe of her mouse, Jen had sent out an email to her staff letting them know that she wouldn’t be in until the afternoon.

“Well?”

Matt cocked his head to the side, “Well?” Music began to play from her speakers. “Ah, yes,” he stood and moved to the center of the office.

Jen took his hand and moved in time to the music playing from her computer. “For luck’s sake.”

“Well, not just luck.”

“So, not just luck.”

“Eh, no.”

“Matthew…”

“It’s just some luck. And an apology. And,” he turned to face her, “…and maybe a small bit of I missed you because I was a dick.”

She chuckled and wrapped her hand around his tighter. “As you say, it comes with the territory. I’m just here to remind you of your dickishness as prescribed by our friendship.”

“Pfft. Doesn’t mean that I have to be a dick to you, though. I am sorry, Jen. Truly. I should never had put you on blast like that because you were only doing what we always do.”

“Thank you.”

“What color’s the dress? It feels like satin.”

“Navy at the top and shifts to black by the bottom. The back’s my favorite.”

“Oh?”

“Go ahead and feel it.” His fingers brushed over the light mesh and traced the stitching. When he squinted, quizzical, she added, “It looks like tree branches in late fall and winter when the leaves are gone. It makes my…uh…”

“Your scars.”

“Yeah…”  
_I’ve missed this asshole. A lot. I can guarantee that we’ll fight again. It’s what we do on occasion. But…I hope he knows…no…he does…he knows._

Another song started and they continued to move in small circles. “It suits you.”

The pair grew quiet as they usually did when they danced together. For Jen, it was a matter of losing herself in music with someone she was close to; while Matt relished having someone he trusted enough to let go of being in control.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” he murmured, swaying in time to the music with her.

“Dangerous,” she quipped with an air of sarcasm.

“Why don’t you come over tonight and we can talk like we used to? I’ll make you breakfast in the morning and you can just decompress from today.”

“Wow,” her brows propped up. “Chats and breakfast? I feel honored.”

“Just trying to interject a little normalcy back into our lives.”

“You seriously want to stay up all night listening to Foggy snoring like a chainsaw in the background? Furthermore, what’s in the fridge at your place that you’re making this breakfast with?”

“Ah. Yes. Well, I’ve got beer…”

“Uh-huh.”

“…and string cheese.”

“That sounds like the breakfast of champions. No wonder you’ve been in such a good mood lately. Come on, Mr. Murdock: how about you take me home; there’s still a change of clothes for you at my place.”

 

It was cool out. The city was humming in his ears, a living and breathing entity; pulsing. When they got back to her apartment, they changed out of their formalwear into sweats and t-shirts. Jen poked fun at him for stuffing his pant legs into the cuffs of his socks while he poked fun at her for wearing her blankets like togas. The warm aroma of a brewing pot of decaf filled the air. Without hesitation, he followed her upstairs and onto her patio. Bundled in blankets and flannel, the pair sat in the dark illuminated by the small lantern on the table with thermoses in hand.

They talked about nothing. Everything. The important. The mundane. His schooling. Her appointment with the neurologist and audiologist.

He buried himself in school after they’d fought. Foggy tried to cheer him up and offered repeatedly to take him out, but he would wave him off, head buried in text. He admitted to trying to block out his guilt and picking his phone up repeatedly to only stuff it back in his pocket. Again, he apologized.  
She revealed that at the appointment she was told that the deficit in her ear was improving and the most recent scan had proved that the head injury she’d taken when she hit the road hadn’t gotten worse; there wasn’t any sign of bruising left.

It was close to two and it was the coolest that it would be all night. Back wedged into his side, Jen’s head rested on his chest and her respirations were finally slowing down. He knew that she loved sleeping outside; she’d told him stories from growing up where she and Dom would sit under starlight and she’d teach him about the heavens or how she would go hiking in camps or parks and stay overnight to listen to the dark.

“Matt,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Thanks. You don’t mind sleeping up here?”

“Nah. I don’t mind. I missed this.”

“Me, too. You tired yet?”

“Nope. You?”

“Nope.”

Mac and Murdock smirked and sighed, nestling into the warmth of the shared blankets. They were, as they reminded each other numerous times, the worst liars.

 

Clouds. Grey and white with hues of lavender displaced by streaks of aquamarine.  
_Ah, yes. We fell asleep up here._ She stretched in all directions. _Where’s Matt? …and the coffee…?_

Disgruntled that sunlight had peeked through the clouds to wake her and having the blanket wrapped tightly around her, Jen shuffled her way across the roof and down her stairs where her senses were assaulted with the smell of eggs, bacon, and fresh coffee.

“You’re a saint,” Jen mumbled through a yawn.

Matt cackled. “And you sound like you’re wearing a giant snowsuit. Cold?”

“Comfortable,” she corrected, sitting on one of her stools at the counter. “What time is it?”

“It’s probably close to eight-thirty. I came down about a half hour ago,” he slid breakfast onto their respective plates and poured coffee. “It’s about the time I wake up on Fridays usually. Here,” he placed her food in front of her. “As promised, breakfast.”

“You know,” she forked a heap of food into her mouth and barely chewed. “A girl could really get used to having a personal chef around.” Matt laughed and leaned back on the counter facing her and dug into his own breakfast. “I’m serious.”

“I know you are. Don’t get too used to my kitchen prowess. I have to go back to being a law student in a few hours.”

_“Damn. That’s a shame.”_

_Breakfast. Something so simple and normal and mundane…but this? It’s important. I think we forget that it’s the little things like this that make getting out of bed easier on the days where the pressure sits on our chest, when the demon tells us that we don’t need to try…need to get up…_  
_I promised Dom long ago I’d do what I could to take care of her when she needed it, when everything was crashing down on her. Being a part of the problem wasn’t in the deal. Never. But she’s right. Sometimes we’re too much of a mirror and we don’t like what we see or what that reflection makes us feel. Our triumphs, our pain, our insecurities; our rage. We can sense them; internalize them. Unleash them._  
_Foggy’s my best friend. But Jen brings me to balance. She knows me like Foggy couldn’t. The pain…the anger…not having to defend it and understanding that it’s hard._  
_So simple and yet unyielding in its complexity. How deeply connected… and then lost when the connection is broken._

“You alright?”

He blinked and shook his head. “Yeah. Just – just thinking.”

“I saw. Anything you want to share with the class?”

“Rule seven.”

“We don’t have a rule seven.” The hot coffee trickled down her throat, heat radiating in her stomach.

Matt finished his meal and placed the plate and mug in the sink. “We do now.”

“Oh, good. I was worried that I didn’t know how to count.”

“Rule seven: I’ll tell you later.”

“Alright,” she cast a skeptical eye. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a bit of a ready and clocks in at over twelve thousand words...but I didn't want to break this chapter up into chunks. I hope you enjoyed.  
> (Did you spy the symbolism?)


	25. Musketeers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Fourth, everyone.

“This is _so_ much better,” Foggy wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders while they walked to the bar. “The two people that I care about are good again and now: we celebrate!”

“I – I think you started the celebrating a little early, man,” Matt laughed, the three of them lurching forward from Foggy colliding into them.

“Nonsense, peasant! Libations for all!”

“We’re getting there, your majesty. One of your trusty steeds is blind and I’m trying to make sure both of you don’t end up in a dark alley.” Her voice was light despite poking fun at both of them. “Heaven forbid I let anything happen to either of you now that we’re the Three Musketeers again.”

“Musketeers! Which one am I?”

“Porthos,” Mac and Murdock replied quick and in unison. Jen looked over to Matt and the pair began laughing.

“At least that means I know how to have a good time,” Foggy jabbed Matt in the ribs.

Murdock nodded. “Yeah, man; you sure do.”

“So,” Foggy straightened up and ushered them into the bar, “which one of you is Aramis and Athos? Be – because honestly, it’s a tossup depending on the day.”

“He’s Aramis,” Jen gave Matt a once over and ordered the first round of drinks. “Definitely.”

“How – how do you figure?”

Jen took a drink and pointed at him. “You love women, my dude. Among other personality traits I could mention. Plus, I’m going to throw your whole St. Agnes ordeal as a parallel to Aramis wanting to be an abbé.”

“I don’t want to be a priest.”

“There’s a relief,” Foggy interjected. “Excuse me, lady and surly dickhead…I’m using the little boys room.”

“Aramis, huh?” a brow peeked over the rim of his glasses.

“Conflicted, ambitious, loyal…and you seem to have a thing for strong women.”

“Hmpf. Alright, Athos. Let’s see what I remember…mysterious past, aloof; a little vengeful…shacked up with the villain if I’m not mistaken…oh…sorry…that, uh…I didn’t mean…”

“Damn straight,” she agreed. “Down to the villain part despite how much I’d rather not have that in my memory.”

The red, neon light cast its seedy glow on the table and left a playfully sinister vibe to the bar. Most of the patrons in the bar were regulars that waved and toasted in their table’s direction as alcohol flowed.

“Up for the game?”

“Ooh,” Matt leaned forward on his elbows. “We haven’t played that in a while. Yeah! Let’s go.”

“Alright. Let’s see,” she scanned the bar and found her target over by the dart board.  
“Okay…Male…”

Immediately, Matt’s senses kicked into overdrive and he began blocking out information from people in the bar that didn’t match the description she was giving. Jen always started out very vague and became increasingly more descriptive. The goal was to try and figure out where this person was with the least amount of descriptors. What Jen didn’t realize that he genuinely enjoyed this game not for the thrill but for the mental aptitude and exercise it gave him. Honing his skills on a _game_ like this was an absolute blast and she was none the wiser.

“…scrawny…glasses…”

_No…no…they don’t have glasses…I can’t sense the sound bouncing off the lenses…they’re out…them, too…_

“…overly dressed…”

_Suits…that leaves…three…one at the bar…one outside…and one playing darts…okay…it’s not the one outside, she doesn’t think I can hear that well…so…which one…_

“…keeps playing with change in his pocket…”

“Darts. Uh…my eleven o’clock…he’s got some wicked cologne on…cheap. I think the intention is to be better off than he is.”

“Good job, Skywalker. Want another?”

“Pshh, that wasn’t even a challenge. What was that, five descriptors?”

“Alright, let’s see you get it in three this time.”

“Three? Then they better be good.”

“Hmm…” Jen got up and walked a loop around the bar.

_Alright. Case the room. Keep in mind she’s adept at being visually observant. The change was a nice touch and gave it away to me…she’s not going to be so kind this time. What have I got to work with…_

“Where’s Mac?” Foggy chirped on his return.

“Shh.”

“Did you just shush me…wait…a-are you two playing the game?”

“Yes. Now hush, I’m trying to cheat a little. I have to get it in three.”

“Three? That’s insane. We’ve been here five minutes. How are you going to get three that quick?”

“You blabbing so that I can’t hear Jen isn’t helping.”

“Oh, right. Sorry. Shhhh.”

Jen reappeared and cast a wary eye. “Murdock, are you cheating?”

“Me? No. Not at all.”

“Foggy?”

Nelson smirked and hid behind his drink. “I plead the fifth, your honor.”

“Uh huh. Alright, Counselor, I’ll give you two guesses. You ready?”

“Yeah. Do your worst.”

Smug, Jen cracked her knuckles and rested her elbows on the table. “Female.”

With a furrowed brow, Matt began concentrating on the people in the room.  
_Less women in the room, she’s not going to go with someone standing outside because she’s not cruel. That gives me…thirteen possible women to narrow it down from._  
“ ‘kay. Got it.”

“Strong in stature and from what I hear, strong in personality.”

_Five. Narrow it down with posture and how they dictate. Two at the bar, one by the pool table, two at tables with company._  
“And?”

“She’s drinking out of a bottle,” Jen smirked, shooting Foggy a side eye.

_A bottle. Where? Table is drinking an amaretto sour that’s more sour than anything…other table has tequila…pool table has water…so…the bar…but which one?_

“Tickity-tock, Mr. Murdock,” Jen teased.

“Yeah, buddy,” Foggy’s smile broadened. “Who is it?”

“Bar…at my one o’clock.”

Jen inhaled sharply through her teeth. “Ooh, that a swing and a miss. Please try again.”

“Then it’s the woman at the bar at my three o’clock.”

Foggy clapped Matt on the shoulder, “Tough break, buddy. They’re both drinking whatever swill Josie’s got going tonight.”

“Then, who?” As soon as he finished asking, the sound of rolling glass on their table rang in his ears. “Oh, that’s not even fair,” he threw his head back and laughed.

“Always go with what you know as truth before you start showing off,” Jen grabbed his face and kissed his cheek and then high fived Foggy. “You thought.”

“Yeah…point taken. I’ll – I’ll get you next time, sweetheart. Don’t you worry. I’m going to hone in on that like a hawk.”

“Or a dolphin,” Foggy cracked out in a roar of laughter. “Remember?!”

Jen’s laugh rang out through the bar to the point that even Josie cracked a smile. She did her best impression of dolphin noises while wheezing and Foggy pretended to swim on his stool.  
“You are relentless,” Matt took a swig from his beer.

“Three Musketeers forever!” Foggy cheered with his beer held aloft. Jen guided Matt’s arm up and they both toasted. “The Bear, the wolf…and the dolphin!”

“Hey!” Jen cheered, laughing and put into further hysterics by Matt’s facial expression of amused exasperation.

“Regardless of whatever happens,” Foggy quieted down some, “let’s promise here and now, that when you two fight, we come here and talk it out like Musketeers. And that we never fall apart.”

“I can work with that,” Matt smirked.

“Yeah. You know what?!” she gasped. “We should have friendship bracelets.”

“YES!” Foggy shouted and pointed at his friends. “YES. It’s official. We’re doing it.”

“I’m not wearing a friendship bracelet.”

“Excuse you,” Jen shoved his shoulder. “If I make it, yes you will; right, Foggy?”

“Absolutely. MORE LIBATIONS AND FRIENDSHIP BRACELETS!”

 

_February_

“Watch out, everybody: I’m Blind Matt Murdock!” Foggy shouted out.

“Most – most people just say _Matt Murdock_ ,” he corrected as Foggy tapped his cane idly on the sidewalk around campus.

Foggy shot back, “I look like most people?”

“I dunno, I can’t see you.”

“Well, at the moment, that may be a blessing.”

Matt laughed, “Oh, God, we should be studying.”

Foggy groaned, “You’re gonna graduate _summa cum laude_ …you can take a night off…you nerd!”

“Yep, you’d be…” he paused a moment, “You’d be graduating with that too…if…if you took a few less nights off.”

Foggy buzzed his lips to show his disbelief. “Says the man that’s spent the past two nights at Mac’s talking about law and stuff and being boring.”  
“Point being, we are both one day gonna be fine, upstanding members of the legal profession! El grande…how do you say _lawyers_ in Spanish?”

“Lawyers… _abogados.”_

_“_ El grande avocados!” he shouted.

“That’s not Spanish….that’s…that’s fruit!”

Foggy pretended to be cross, “It’s a vegetable at best!”

“See,” Matt laughed, “That’s what you get for taking Punjabi instead of Spanish with me…just to chase a girl!”

“What? No. I’m sorry!” Foggy argued poorly in his inebriated condition. “I’ll have you know that Punjabi is the future language of the future of business! Couple years…we’ll all be speaking it…And she was so hot,” he leaned into Matt. “She was so hot!”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “Say that in Punjabi!”

Foggy attempted in vain to speak anything in his elective language. “God…shut up! Kiss my ass.”

“Y-you can’t speak it!”

“No…no, no, no...A-are you trying to tell me that you didn’t take Spanish…to…snuggle up to what’s-her-name?”

Matt looked toward him, “What? The Greek girl? Well…I surely…I would take Greek?”

“No,” Foggy remembered, “Because she was taking Spanish. She already spoke Greek. Whatever happened to her? She was smokin’!”

“Man,” Matt reminisced, “It didn’t work out.”

“When does it ever with you, buddy? How can I help you? What are you looking for, my young Padawan,” he imitated in Yoda’s voice.

“I dunno…I guess just someone I really like listening to…where are those stairs?”

“Stairs. Here,” Foggy dutifully indicated.

“I would like to sit now.”

“Yes!” Foggy practically shouted. “We sit! And then we forage for hamburgers and more libations!” he flopped back onto the sidewalk.

“How about just the burgers?” Matt offered in compromise.

“Lightweight!” his best friend sat back up. “Hey…do you get the spins? Can you get those if you can’t see?” his voice expressing his genuine interest.

Matt thought for a moment and divulged, “Yeah…I get the spins.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s – it’s an equilibrium thing…it’s not your eyes. Liquid in your inner ear gets disturbed, has trouble leveling off or something.”

“Huh. That sucks…I thought you might get a pass on that one.”

“No. It’s even worse for me, I think….cause my senses are so…are…hmm…” Matt trailed off.

“So what?” Foggy pushed. “Delicate?”

“Hmm…yeah, you could say that,” he conceded.

“Hey, how old were you when you had your first drink?” Foggy continued without much thought into Matt’s answer.

“Nine.” Murdock replied quickly.

“Nine?! LUSH!”

“My dad gave me a sip from his bottle of scotch.”

“Go, Dad!”

Matt thought back to that night, “He didn’t want my hands shaking while I stitched him up. He got cut pretty bad over his eye. Boxing match.”

“He win?”

“No.”

“He’d be proud of you, buddy,” Foggy reassured him.

“Thanks, man,” Matt pondered from his spot on the step. “All he ever wanted was for me to use my head…not my fists. Not like him.”

“My mom wanted me to be a butcher. I think she liked the idea of free ham.”

The pair laughed, happily drunk in their adventuring around campus. “Hey,” Matt piped up. “They coming to graduation? Your family?”

“The _whole_ extended brood. It’s not every day a Nelson breaks from the ranks of hardware and cured meats.”

_“Franklin Nelson for the defense, Your Honor!”_

Foggy smiled, his blue eyes sparkling a little against the lamp light. “Defense? I like that. There’s money in that!”

“Oh come on, is that all you care about?” Matt challenged, already knowing how his best friend was going to answer.

“No. No, truth and justice and all that… Couple of bucks?”  
“Me and you, pal,” Foggy imagined, his voice and energy growing, “We’re gonna have big, fancy offices one day…with steel and glass and chairs you don’t even know how to sit in! Murdock and Nelson, Attorneys at Law!”

“Nelson and Murdock,” Matt grinned. “Sounds better.”

“Ya think?”

“Yeah, trust me. Like I’ve said to Jen…I can’t see worth shit, but my hearing’s spectacular.”

Foggy laughed, the numbness from drinking spreading into his fingers. “Me and you, pal. We’re gonna do this…we’re gonna be the best damn avocados this city has ever seen!”

“Best damn avocados,” Matt agreed, getting up to leave, giving Foggy a hand.

“Let’s get the hell out of here. Come on…  You’re strong!”

“I work out.”

“Hey, you know what else sounds nice?”

“What’s that, man?” they walked on in search of food.

“Mac’s voice,” Foggy prodded. “You can’t argue about that one, buddy… Because, I know you love the dulcet tones my voice makes. So Mac’s got to sound like an angel choir or something.”

Murdock’s stomach was beginning to ache from the amount of laughing Foggy had him doing all night. “Foggy, you can’t keep getting your hopes up, man. We already talked about it. Nothing’s ever really worked out for me and in her defense, _Counselor_ …” he stressed Foggy’s future title, “She’s busy and about as lucky. And you and I are going to have those fancy offices, remember?”

“Eh…I think you’d find a way to make it work if it mattered enough.”  
“Alright…so  let – let’s look at this backwards…instead of telling me what’s wrong or how much it’s going to suck…what’s one of the – the top…raisins…no…reasons! That’s the word! What’s one of the best reasons you and Mac are so close? She’s like my sister and all, but you two have this whole other level going on.”

“She doesn’t…I dunno, man…she doesn’t make me feel like I’m fragile…you know? Like…it’s almost as if she forgets I’m blind…and that’s something, I guess,” he shrugged. “And she’s not afraid to put me in my place or call me out on any shit I try to start. She’s been through hell and isn’t afraid to let me know that I’m being a baby about things.”  
“You,” he hiccupped, eliciting a laughing fit from the both of them as they approached the diner. “Y–you should have been at her place last night when... We talked about the case we’re studying right now in class…and she argued me out of it!”

“Did you let her win?”

“No, man!” Matt exclaimed, his arms flailing out. “She beat me fair and square…and I was struggling to keep up. We – we should be glad,” he paused for a beat while Foggy opened the door, “That – that she didn’t stay in law school. I wouldn’t be able to beat her in a courtroom!”

Foggy jabbed his elbow into Matt’s side, “It is because she’s that good or that good _and_ pretty? Matt, am I pretty?”

“Ugh,” the redhead groaned. “Foggy. That’s not fair! You haven’t brought that up since undergrad!”

“I mean, pretty boy is a fitting title for you.”  A girl sitting at the counter looked over at the pair of them, rolled her eyes, and left. “Great,” Foggy sighed. “Another coed thinks I’m gay for you and it’s your fault.”

“Mine? What did I do? You’re the one that wanted to know why I don’t say that you’re pretty!” Matt argued in stitches.

“Order your damn food,” Foggy groaned. “Remember Mac, she – she doesn’t want onions.”

“Yeah,” Matt acknowledged, bringing his fingers to his eyes. “Oh my God, I’m crying!”

“Shut up, Murdock or I’m leaving you on your own, buddy.”

 

_April_

“No, we’re good. We both agree that we need to have our own spaces for after graduation; we’re planning to each try and have our own place by the end of the summer.”

_“That’s what you were saying. I think that’s cool that you both are chill about it. Do you know where you want to look?”_

Matt replied, “I want to try and be in the Kitchen. You know…”

_“No, I totally get it. Want me to start looking around and asking people? I know a couple realtors that work out that way that are patrons of Taula,”_ Jen offered.

“Sure, that’d be great! Yeah, actually. Uh…would…would you mind…”

Jen’s laugh crackled over the earpiece. “ _You want me to go with you when you go house hunting?”_

“If – if it’s not too much trouble, yeah…”

_“Sure thing, hot shot. Ready for graduation next month?”_

“I’m ready to get to work. See what kind of good I can do in the world.”

_“For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you and I think I can say that I know that your dad would be proud of you, too.”_

“Thanks, Jen. It means a lot.”

_“Good. Oh, last thing while I still have you on the phone…either of those law firms call you back about a job post-graduation?”_

“No, not yet, but we’ve been told that it’s possible to not expect anything until the late summer with that; depending on what’s available at the various firms and the turnaround for results from the bar exam .”

_“Hmm. That’s shitty. But I guess in that regard, you’re kind of in the same boat as brand new teachers coming out of college and trying to get into the field. Goes without saying, if you need a place to stay until you get a job or until you get an apartment, the spare room is yours.”_

“Spare room? No, I’m taking the master. I know which mattress is better.”

_“Over my dead body, Murdock. You can’t even whine to Foggy about that either for obvious reasons. Rule one, dear.”_

He chuckled and made it to the food cart he was getting his lunch from for the day. “Yeah, yeah. Hey, we all good for dinner tomorrow?”

_“As far as I know. Foggy said that he’s coming over around six to start cooking. Do you know what he’s making for family dinner?”_

“No idea. Said he was going shopping today after he turned in one of his papers that he stayed up all night writing.”

_“Procrastinators unite tomorrow.”_

“You’re a bad influence.”

“ _Me?”_ she scoffed. “ _I distinctly remember you telling me that he was a bad influence when we met. Foggy’s fully capable of not needing my help in that regard. At all.”_

“Uh-huh.”

“ _Uh-huh. Tell you what, I have a meeting scheduled in five. I’ll start snooping around for new digs for you after that since you told me how much you want to spend. I’m out of the office around four today and then I’m heading over to the gym.”_

“Yours or mine?”

“ _Mine, but I can be persuaded to head over to Fogwell’s for some extra work after. Let me know, otherwise I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”_

“Yeah. Bye.”

_“Be good. Bye.”_


	26. New York, New York

_Friday, May Fourth_

“ _JEN!” Matt yelled into his phone. “Stay at the office! Do you hear me!? Stay there!_ ”

“Matt? What the hell is going on? Where are you?”

“ _We’re at school. Don’t leave. You need to stay put to be safe! Foggy, tell her!_ ”

“ _Mac? Listen to me. There’s things coming out of the sky and the super hero dudes are out there fighting. You need to stay put. Midtown is a battle zone right now. I’ll take care of Matt, okay? We’re both alright at the moment.”_

_“…give me the phone…Jen? You listen to me and promise me that if they start coming towards SoHo, you’re going to get the hell out. Got it? Promise me!”_

Jen stared out her window and watched as a hole opened up in the sky. “Get somewhere safe. Both of you. Now.”  
_*click*_

“Tia,” she called calmly and dialed the Chicago office.

“Oh my God, what are we going to do?” she cried.

“Calm down, firstly. Who else in our building knows about what’s going on?”

“About a third. Why?”

“ _Duquesne.”_

“It’s Jen. In New York.”

“ _My God. Are you alright? It’s all over the news. Every single channel.”_

“Well, we just found out in a rather large scale that we aren’t alone in the universe. So…there’s that.”

_“What the hell are those things?”_

“Don’t know, sir; and don’t care to find out. I’m going to lock down our building and do what I can to keep our people safe. I wanted to let you know.”

_“That’s not even a question. Do what you need to. Keep them safe.”_

“Yes, sir.”

_“Jennifer…”_ she stilled and looked up at Tia. _“I can’t lose you, too. Please…please stay safe.”_

“Catch you on the flipside.”

She ended the call and dialed into the paging system and said calmly, “Ladies and gentlemen, this Jennifer MacDougal, CEO. We have been asked to enact a lockdown. Please, calmly, make your way to the nearest stairwell and head to the basement. Please turn all electronic devices either off or on silent. Again, ladies and gentlemen, this is Jennifer MacDougall, CEO. We are going into a lockdown. Please make your way to the basement.”

Another punch of numbers got her to the restaurant.

“ _Miss MacDougall, how can I help you?”_

“With whom am I speaking?”

“ _My name’s Cody, front of house.”_

“Good. Cody, without causing panic, please move our patrons and staff into the back basement. We are going into lockdown. Do you understand what I’m asking you to do?”

_“Yes, ma’am.”_

“Follow protocol as best as possible. I understand that we are in the middle of lunch. If patrons ask, we will happily reschedule them at an immediate opening. Now move.”

“Jen?”

“Tia, listen to me. Your job right now, even though you feel like the world is ending, is to help all of our people to feel calm. That’s what I need you to do right now. Can you do that?”

“Y-yes.”

She handed her a power pack for her phone and nodded. “Good. Now go.”

“What about you?”

“I’m going to make sure that every floor is clear. I’ll be last in. Get going.”

 

She’d checked every floor and shouted in every restroom and copy room. It’s was vacant. Blood pounded in her temples and in her ears, the muscles in her legs felt like they were on fire. Thankfully, she’d kept a pair of sneakers in her closet and traded her pumps in for more practical footwear.  
_Think smart. Think how you’re going to survive._

The doors into the building were not only physically locked, but she’d engaged the electromagnetic mechanisms from her office to ensure that those things wouldn’t get in.  
_Almost there. Just got to check the dining room and then I can get to the basement._

Rounding the corner, all was like a ghost town. The dining room, waiting area, kitchen, staff areas, restrooms; all of it. Empty.  
_Down the side stairs. Office staff is to the right, patrons and restaurant staff are to the left. Okay. Almost done. You’re doing great. Aliens are real. Holy shit! Aliens are real! …oh fuck_.  
Tia was standing at the bottom of the steps with a man behind her, a knife to her throat.

“Easy,” Jen put her hands up. “I’m not going to hurt you…my name’s Jen and hers is Tia. We work here.”

“Fuck you! D-d-did you see those things out there?” he shouted.

Jen looked him over under the fluorescent light and took in as much information that she could.  
_Not more than thirty-five. Scared shitless. Couple scars…looks kind of rough…okay._  
“What’s your name?”

“Don’t try to be cool with me,” he shouted.

“Look. It’s not you versus me anymore. The real war…the real shit? That’s going on up there. You can stay here with me and my staff. That’s fine. But you’ll have to give me the knife, okay?” He inhaled sharply and looked about. “I’m very serious. The building’s locked down and unless someone cracks through that glass or through the stone, no one’s getting in. Okay?”  
“But what you’re doing right now…I know you’re scared and that’s okay.”

“I ain’t scared!”

“Fine,” Jen dropped her hands and grew stern. “Then you’re some big badass and a thug who isn’t scared of shit. Good for you. My staff? They aren’t like you. They aren’t like me. Her job, Tia’s job right now, is to make sure they don’t get scared. Stupid shit happens when people get scared.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you!” Jen shouted. “You come here in my house and pull up one of my people and you’ve got a God damned knife at her throat! Now, calm the fuck down and get over yourself! Give me the damn knife or so help me, you’re going to wish you did.”

“I’ll kill her,” he threatened and pulled the knife a little closer. “And I’ll kill you, too, bitch!”

“Tia,” Jen locked eyes with her. “It’s going to be okay. Alright?” Her voice was calm, “But I need you to stop crying. You have to do that for me.”

Her head bobbed up and down subtly. Jen’s gaze moved back to the issue at hand and took a step forward.

“Stay back.” Another step. “You deaf now? I said fuckin’ stay back!”

“I heard you. I just need two more steps.”

“For what?”

The heel of Jen’s hand launched forward into his nose while her other hand grabbed Tia and pulled her sideways to the floor. Stunned and crying, the man groaned and reached for his face.  
_Perfect. Disarm. Shit! Damn it. Good. Knife’s on the floor. Strike to the neck and  a sweep of the leg. He’s fighting. Good. Strike: One, two three…four…unconscious. Breathe. It’s okay. Tia’s fine. You’re good. You’ve had worse. Oh, damn it. There’s blood on my shirt.  
_“Tia, your belt,” Jen had her arm outstretched. Shock settling in, she stared with wide, doe eyes. “Tia. Belt.” When she didn’t move, Jen hopped off their assailant’s chest and walked over to her and took the belt from her waist.

“Étienne!” she shouted down the corridor. Her kitchen manager came running and looked down in awe at the scenario before him. “Apron, give it to me. Get three more from your kitchen staff. Go.” He nodded and bolted.

“Tia, look at me.” It was as if she couldn’t hear her, but began to cry instead. When Étienne reappeared, Jen used the ties from the aprons and the belt to tie up the man that had snuck in before the lockdown. She used one of the other aprons as a compress and held it to the man’s nose.  
“I need you to take her to the office staff down the hallway. Alright? They’ll take care of her. We can’t have her near the patrons. Understand?”

“Oui. I veel git ‘er dhere now. Et toi?”

Jen nodded and cradled the man’s head. “I’ll stay here until you get back. See to her, please.”

“Come, mon cher…” he lifted her from the floor and guided her down the hallway.

_Time. Tick. Tock. The monotonous mechanisms in my watch seems so loud in my ear. Lights are brighter. No. That’s adrenaline and cortisol. Breathe. It’s okay. Foggy’s taking care of Matt. Shit, Foggy’s taking care of Matt. God knows that it’s the other way around though. Jesus._

She fished her phone out of her pocket: barely any reception. _It’s worth a try._

_*beep beep; beep beep*_

“ _Thank God. Where are you?”_

“Basement,” she let out a heavy breath. “What’s going on up there?”

“ _The news said Ironman and Captain America are here. So’s the green guy and the Viking guy with the hammer. Plus there’s two others…a – a guy with a bow and a woman who’s really good with some pistols.”_

“Are you safe?”

“ _Yeah. Yeah. Everything seems concentrated in Midtown. Are you okay?”_

She shrugged. “I’ve been better, but I’ll live.”

_“What happened? Are you hurt?!”_ his voice frantic.

“Guy got in before I could lock down completely. I’m alright. Just got nicked.” There was an uncomfortable pause. “Genuinely nicked…like I won’t even need a stitch.”

_“I’m coming for you.”_

“No, you are not,” she cried out. “That’s suicide! I need you to stay put.”

“ _Jennifer, I can’t leave you out there…”_

“For now, Matt, yes you will. Use your brain, God damn it. You need to stay put and take care of Foggy. Alright? That’s what I need you to do.”

“ _You and I both know that’s not what you want..”_

“You’re right,” she cleared her throat and sat a little straighter. “You know. You always know.”

_“Jen, please…I can…”_

“For what it’s worth…me too. Be good.”

* _click_ *

Jen sighed and slipped her phone under her bra strap and looked down to the man on the floor. He was awake.

“You’re alright. I told you that you could stay here with up and I meant it.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, and you said that you weren’t gonna hurt me, either.”

“I did say that,” she nodded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you; but you were scared and going to hurt Tia.”

“Ntk,” he clicked his tongue and Jen helped him sit up. “You broke my nose.”

“Nah, I didn’t. I’ve broken plenty. I just stunned you.”

“So what, you like a karate master or something?”

“Not quite. Just know how to handle myself. Got into enough shit on my own and had to learn how to get myself out of it.”

“No shit? How’d you become the boss?”

“Someone told me to start using my words and my brain over my fists. My name’s Jen.”

“Gunner,” he puffed up but deflated when Jen game him a wary eye. “John…my – my name’s John.”

“Alright.” Jen dabbed the blood from his face and sat cross-legged. “What were you doing in Midtown?”

“It’s my daughter’s birthday. She, uh…she’s in ninth grade…she goes to a private school and I was going to pick her up…you know…take her out for the afternoon before school’s out…it’s our thing.” Jen nodded and he continued “I – I just got a letter in the mail sayin’ – sayin’ that we needed to make a payment on her tuition because we was short…so I was going to go talk to ‘em first. Don’t want her to end up like me.”

“Did you get to her?”

John shook his head and tears welled in his eyes, “No…they, uh…they locked down the school before I could get to her.”

“What brought you this way?”

“Her mom works out here. Comes to this restaurant all the time…wanted to see if she was here and had heard from Kelsey. We’re not together any more…and she don’t help with the school.”

“How do you pay for the tuition?”

“Ntk, you ain’t dumb and you ain’t naïve either.” He turned away and sulked.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t get to her,” Jen wiped more blood away. “But she’s going to be okay.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I have to believe in something. I don’t have a whole lot left to believe in. So I’ll add Kelsey to the list.”

John turned and looked at Jen critically. “Was that your boyfriend you were on the phone with?”

“No. He’s, well…it’s complicated.”

“Usually is. You love him?”

“I don’t know. I care for him more than I do myself. I don’t know if I’m capable of loving someone.”

“That’s bullshit, everyone’s capable.”

“Baggage,” Jen offered and he rolled his eyes.

“Listen, everyone’s got baggage. It don’t matter. If you care for someone, you need to let them know.”

“He knows. And I know.”

“So what’s the holdup…unless you into some weird shit…”

Jen laughed, “No…not like that. We are too afraid of hurting each other to lose each other. So we do what we do and call it a day.”

Footsteps echoed down the corridor and they looked to find Étienne and Tia. She knelt in front of him, her face dour. Before Jen could react she cracked an open palm across John’s face.

“What the hell, woman?! I’m tied up and your boss beat the shit out of me!”

“That was for scaring me and putting a knife to my throat,” she snapped, grabbed the knife, and handed it to Jen. “Now she’s going to cut you loose because she’s right. It’s us versus them. Not you versus me. If you’re going to be down here, you’re going to follow her rules. Miss MacDougall’s a cage fighter and she’s not going to put up with any of your shit. Do you hear me?!”

Jen eyed Étienne and they both tried to hide their smirks. John nodded, bewildered. “Yeah, yeah! Whatever you say! You’re crazy!”

“I only hire the best,” Jen chuckled as she cut the bindings on him.

Free, he rubbed his wrists and looked between the three staff members around him and took Jen’s offered hand to hoist him up. “I’m sorry. You were right. I’m scared. My baby’s out there and I can’t do anything…”

“I know. But you need to keep your head because she’s going to need you to when you get out of here. Got it?”  
He nodded. “If you two will stay with him for a moment, I’m going to address the patrons and restaurant staff.”  
She was part way down the hallway when she turned back and asked, “What’s her name?”

“Mila. Polaski.”

Jen appeared at the doorway and had a herd of people crowd her all demanding answers. She put her hands up and waited nearly ten minutes for them all to quiet down.  
_Christ. This ought to be fun._

“Ladies and gentlemen, as some of you may know, there is an event happening in Midtown. Though details are unclear, I have it under good authority that Ironman, Captain America, The Hulk, Thor, and others are here in the city dealing with the threat. I do not know who or what the threat is in its entirety…but I do know there is severe damage done to the city not unlike what happened on 9/11. You have been brought down to this basement as a precaution. When I have more information and an all clear from the city, I will let you know.”

“Who the hell are you,” one of the women in the back shouted. “You can’t keep us here!”

“I’m the CEO of Duquesne Enterprises, New York. I take your safety very seriously. Our Chicago office and the New York police have been made aware of our situation. And yes,” she said flatly. “I can keep you here because every entrance has been locked with electromagnets. The authorities have an access code should they need to breach the building. I ask you to remain calm.”

The woman that shouted stormed forward and shoved people out of the way and shoved Jen. “My lawyer will have your job and no one in the city will ever hire you again.” Others murmured in agreement.

Jen sighed and popped up a brow. “You may try. But if you’d like to take your chances in the warzone that New York’s become, I’m more than happy to personally escort you to the door, open it, and toss you out. But once you are out, you will not be allowed back in as I will not jeopardize the welfare and safety of the people under my care. Is that what you would like me to do?” She remained silent and scowled. “Then I must politely ask that you to do the following: Sit. Down,” her voice terse.

The rest of the group followed suit and did as she said.

“My staff will attend to your needs as best as they are able. Should any of you deem it appropriate to act out in this situation, I can assure that I will pacify it personally. Afterwards, should we get the all clear, I will have you tied up in litigation until you need a walker to move about for putting my guests, my staff, and my life in danger for your antics. I encourage you to stay quiet so that we aren’t heard by the threat to our city. Thank you for your attention. I will be back when I have news.”  
“Also, would there happen to be a Mila Polaski in attendance?”

“Yes?” A wiry woman stood up.

“Come with me, please.”

“Why?”

Unfazed and unnerved, Jen reiterated placidly, “Come with me, please.”

 

“What are you doing?” Foggy shoved Matt back into the classroom. “Mac said stay here.”

“Yeah, she did. But she didn’t promise that she wouldn’t do something stupid and I have to go and find her.”

“Oh, right. That _totally_ makes sense,” he placated. “You go out there, those things are going to eat you alive!”

Matt huffed, knuckles turning white on his cane. “I can take care of myself.”

“Buddy, I don’t doubt it. Against some people I’m sure you can hold your own. We don’t know what they are. Hell, we just watched the guy with a hammer get pinged across the sky like he was a flea! You have to stay put because that’s the best way we stay safe.”

“But Jen’s not safe.”

“I know and it’s killing me, too,” he shoved Matt again. “But she said to stay put and if that’s the last thing I ever hear from her, I’m damn well going to listen!”

 

“John?! What the hell are you doing here and what happened to you?!” Mila shrieked.

“It’s nothin’,” he mumbled. “Happened when I was getting in.”

“Where is Kelsey? You’re supposed to have her today!”

John looked up and Jen could see the pain and resentment he had for himself. “They locked the school before I could get to her, so I came here looking for you.”

“You idiot!” she snapped. “You were supposed to get her!”

“That’s enough,” Jen snapped. “He came here to find you; to make sure you were safe because the school is protecting your daughter. Pull yourself together.”

“Who the hell…”

“Your daughter may be feeling like the world is crumbling around her,” Jen breathed sharply. “She’s going to need to know that both of you are the rock she needs to build on. So stow whatever bad beef you have with each other and put your daughter first because as soon as we are able, I’m getting the two of you out of here. Do you hear me?”  
They nodded. “Good. Étienne, take her back with the other guests. Tia, I’m going to ask that you go with them and try to keep the guests happy and quiet. John, you’ll come with me.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Why not you,” she asked with an incredulous look. “Come on. We have work to do.”

 

“Ladies and gentleman, the Chief of Police has phoned to say that SoHo is clear. He’s warned me that there’s significant damage and it may take you quite some time to get home. Please, in an orderly fashion, follow me and I will open the doors for you to leave. Thank you for your patience.”

Stiff and, for better or worse, unscathed, the guests followed her back upstairs and out of the establishment. Once the last of the patrons had exited, Jen turned to her restaurant and office staff.  
“You have acted most admirably in the face of today. Go home. Be with your families. I will call Mr. Duquesne before I leave and let you know his decision about opening tomorrow. Thank you.”

“John, a word before you leave?”

“I’m real sorry…about all of it…”

“Tia knows and has said she will not be pressing charges under one condition.”

“Uh…?”

“You should start working here. We’ll get you in the kitchen if you’d like. Train you properly; give you a chance. But you have to make the decision now: who do you want to be for your daughter?”

“You’re serious,” his jaw dropped.

“Very much so. It’s a time to be united, not divided. If you want a job, call this number,” she handed him her business card. “When we reopen, I’ll have you come in for an entrance interview.”

“Why?” tears welled in his eyes. “Why would you do something like that for someone like me?”

“Because that’s what we do here. That’s a part of who we are as a company. Now, go get your daughter.”

She pulled out her phone and called Chicago. _Battery’s low; better make it count._

“ _Jennifer! Thank God. I’ve been worried sick!”_

“Everything’s under control, sir. Staff and guests were just dismissed to go home. Would you like to open tomorrow?”

“ _Jennifer…”_

“Sir,” her voice steeled, “I have been able to do my job effectively because I have things to do and so long as I have work, I’m not going to lose it. So…are we opening tomorrow?”

“ _Close tomorrow,”_ he said quietly. “ _At your discretion, open either Sunday or Monday. Go home, Jennifer. I will call you tomorrow, do you understand?”_

“Yes, sir.”

_*click*_

“Tia?”

_“Yes?”_

“We’re closing until Sunday evening. Have staff start showing up around noon. I’ll – I’ll fill you in on what we’re doing tomorrow, alright?”

“ _Thank you…you know, for saving me and all that you do.”_

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you Sunday, alright?”

* _click_ *

When she pulled her phone away from her ear, she pocketed it and started walking. Traffic was a nightmare and the subways were slammed.

_Purpose. I have to get home. Duquesne says so. Keep it together. Walk. One foot in front of the other. I can be home in half an hour if the way is clear and I cut through West Village…longer if the city’s really that fucked. It’s alright. Keep going. Look…people are helping each other…I remember the country coming together after 9/11…it feels like that. New Yorkers, once again, coming together and emerging from the rubble. Help out…they need help…how long have I been walking?_

“Hey,” Jen shouted at the car window. “Are you okay?”

“The door!” the woman shouted from the driver’s seat. “It’s stuck!”

“Okay…I can get…” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees two kids in car seats in the backseat. “I’m going to get them out, okay? Take your coat and cover your babies, alright?”

Jen peeled off her tailored jacket and wadded it up against the window. After the woman gave the nod, Jen slammed her jacket-wrapped elbow into the window. The glass shattered and she used the jacket to peel as much glass away as possible and draped it over the sharp edges.  
“Hello, sweetheart,” she looked at the two girls. “Hold on to me, okay. I’m going to pull you out and then I’m going to help mommy out, too, okay? That’s it. There you go. Hold on.”

Both children safe and gripping tightly to each of her pantlegs, Jen got to work on the driver side window and after two elbow strikes the mother helped her shove the glass out. Jen pulled her out in similar fashion and reunited her with her daughters.

“Thank you,” she cried. “We’ve been stuck for hours…Ironman scraped our car when he was being chased by one of those things and the doors wouldn’t open.”

“You’re okay. Do you have a means to get home?”

“We’ll get a cab,” she leaned in the car and grabbed her purse.

Jen had already hailed a taxi nearby and jumped in front of it. “I’m off the clock, lady!”

“Look,” Jen shoved her head in the window, “We’ve all been through some shit today, alright? Here’s a hundred dollar tip. Take them home.” She eyed the mom. “And let her get those girls safe in bed, you got me?”

“Christ, come on, get in,” he hollered and they hopped in the back.

“I don’t even know your name!” the mom shouted.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jen replied. “Just…help someone out soon, alright?”

 

Her feet kept propelling her forward and along the way, she kept stopping to help people that needed it. Her half hour trek took the better part of three hours and suddenly she realized that she was home. Her building had remained unscathed, but power was out.  
_Logically._

Legs made of lead plodded on each step. Body beaten and bruised from the rubble and carnage left over in the city. It was as if her body had its own agenda and she was merely a puppet.

_Why am I so tired…I didn’t do anything…but…wait…my door…it’s open…someone’s here… Hey, I still have John’s knife. Okay. I’m ready…  
_She breathed out slowly and felt adrenaline pumping through her veins again. She peeled the door open with a splayed hand and found a body sitting on her couch, head in their hands.

“I’ve had a really long, long ass day, asshole. You have until the count of three to get the hell out of my apartment with no questions asked before we have a problem.”  
His head snapped up and Jen realized in the dim light, there was only one form that could belong to. “Matt?”

In the faint light, she could make out that he was drenched with sweat and looked like hell. “Are you alright?”

Tossing the knife onto her side table she took a step into her home and collapsed. Strong arms enveloped her and his hand brushed over her hair.  
“It’s alright. I’ve got you. It’s okay; shh. I’m right here,” his words soft in her ear, rocking her gently while tears freely fell.

Astonishment. Fear. Pain. Wrath. Anger. Helplessness. All of those emotions were raging war in her and begging to be let out after she’d bottled them up all day. That’s what she meant by having a job to do: if she had work, she could keep burying today down.

Silent beams of radiance, moonlight skittered about the floor juxtaposed with shadow. Sirens both near and far disrupt the silence. Dust and rubble hang in the air. Is this what it was like? Back then? When the Towers fell. Back. Not so long ago. When they tried to make fear take over.  
When she finally quieted she pulled back and looked at him carefully. “You look like shit. How did you get here from school?”

“I ran part of the way, sort of. Pretty sure I hit a lot of people with my cane…was able to catch a cab part way…but then the rest was me moving on my feet.”

“You’re an idiot; where’s Foggy?”

“Cussing me out and wondering if I’m dead. My phone broke on the way over.”

“Mine’s nearly dead. Hang on. I got just enough…Foggy?”

_“JEN! I’ve been worried sick and Matt’s gone off to look for you and he’s out there and if he’s not dead I’m going to kill him and he won’t have to worry about passing the bar!”_

“I found him. He’s okay. Looks like hell, but I got him.”

_“Thank God. You verbally beat his ass. I mean it. And keep him there until Monday. I am so pissed at him.”_

“Got it. My phone’s going to die. Love you, Fog.”

“ _Love you, too. Try to rest.”_

Jen tossed her phone across the living room and turned to Matt. “He’s pissed, if you couldn’t tell. What were you thinking?”

“That you were hurt and that you were going to feel lost even though you’d know exactly what to do and – and I didn’t want you to feel alone in all that.”

“You could have gotten hurt at the very least! What if you’d died?” she shoved him. “You care about that?”

Matt stilled. “But I didn’t.”

“You could have died, you fucking idiot,” she slammed her fists into his chest. “Don’t you even fucking care?! I’m not worth it!” New tears started to fall and she kept hitting him. “I’m not! You, Foggy; I’m not worth your lives, do you hear me!?”

Carefully, Matt pulled her flush against him and waited for her to tire out.  
_She’s running on fumes. Bet she didn’t eat this morning since she’s been eating breakfast around ten-thirty lately. No energy. Then she had to be strong for everyone there and she got hurt…that smell…rubble, dust, gasoline…what did she get into before she came home?_

Her empty sobs pulled at his heart. With fair ease Matt picked her up, sat her down at the dining table and rummaged through her cabinets. She’d kept everything meticulously in order on account of how often he was around.  
_Think…what have I got…might as well open the fridge…no telling when power’s coming back…got it._

Jen couldn’t see what Matt was doing in the dark, but he probably didn’t notice that the sun had gone down. She knew it didn’t matter: he expertly moved about opening drawers and cabinets until she heard him pad over and place a plate in front of her.

“I’m not hungry,” she whimpered.

Matt sat beside Jen and pulled her chair close to him. “I need you to eat. You haven’t eaten today, have you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Right. How about this…you eat half and I’ll eat the other half?”

“But I’m not…” It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see him, his presence kept hitting her in waves.

“Not up for negotiation,” his voice firm. “I’ll eat a bite, then you do.” He chomped onto the food and placed it in her hand.

“What is it?”

She heard him swallow, “Eat to find out.”

Jen took a bite and realized it was a sandwich. The bread and turkey hit her stomach and she felt ravenous but she gave the sandwich back to Matt.

“It’s alright, Jen, give me your hand,” he said softly and guided her fingers to another sandwich. “I’ve got one. Eat.”  
A sound of relief came from her throat and she devoured the sandwich in her hands; he took the time to eat the one he made for himself.  
Happy that she’d eaten, he put some hand sanitizer on his hands and returned to the table. “Alright, Jen. Let me see.”

“See what?”

“Where you got hurt. Come on.”  
_She didn’t protest, not once. Jen’s peeled up her shirt over her shoulder and guided my hand to her ribs…how the hell did she get sliced open?!_  
“Jennifer!”

She hissed when his fingers trailed over the wound. “It’s not deep. I looked before I left the office.”

“How did this happen?” _I know it was a knife. And not a clean one, either._

“Guy came in,” she swallowed and hissed when he brushed rubbing alcohol over it. “Got scared and tried to take Tia hostage with a knife. I dealt with him and got nicked. I’ll be fine.”

“That’s not the point I’m making, Jen. You just got done beating on me because I came here looking for you and you went ahead and did something equally stupid! Did you think you weren’t going to have the same questions spun on you?”

“Didn’t think about that at the time,” she shrugged. “To be honest, I kind of went on autopilot and did what I had to do. Ended up being a chill guy, all things considered. Offered him a job. Then I started walking and found people that needed help…so I did…”

“You did what? Never mind…we can talk about this later,” he murmured with an edge to his voice. “Can you stand?”

“I don’t know…I feel really tired.”

Matt bent down and picked her up from the chair and carried her to the bathroom. “Water’s going to be cold, but if you’ve got any debris on you…I don’t want that cut getting infected before someone can look at it. Come on.”  
She leaned heavily on the tile wall in her shower and Matt turned the water on while she was clothed. “It’s alright, Jen. I’ve got you. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

_Thank God this water’s cold. I did run here and at first, I did hit people with my cane to get them out of my way. When that didn’t work I took a cab…and then I scaled up onto the roofs like I did with Stick as a kid and ran the rest of the way over here. The power’s out, so that means depending on the weather, it might get really warm tonight.  
When she’s ready, she’ll tell me. I know she will. But right now, she’s so closed off. It doesn’t feel like shock…that smells and feels different. Jen’s just shutting down. If she has a task, she’s okay…she’s taking care of her hair right now. That’s good. Hop back in the water…cold bliss._

“This isn’t a dream, is it,” she asked rinsing her hair and peeling her ruined work clothes off her frame. Her fragrant soap lathered in her hands and she paid special attention to her wound.

“No,” he breathed. “It’s real.”

Her hand reached out to him and found his arm. “So that means you’re here…really here…?”

“Right here, Jen,” his other hand covered hers. “I’m right here.”  
_Wait…what…there she is. Burning bright again._

Her hands felt out for his face and checked for injuries, not that she could notice in the dark. “You’re okay…right? You didn’t get hurt?”

“No, I didn’t,” he replied and was surprised when she enveloped him in a hug.

The atmosphere in the shower changed. He drew her wet locks behind her ear and Jen slowly peeled his shirt from his chest. The water was cold. Or at least it should have felt that way. He couldn’t remember who had turned the water off, but their sopping clothes were left behind and she guided him to her bedroom. Her necklace pressed between their bodies and the points dug into his skin.  
Capable hands roamed over her arms slowly: feeling and sensing for injury that would need immediate attention. She had some minor swelling and superficial scrapes to his relief.

_How could she think that I wouldn’t come for her, even with whatever the hell happened today…I told her I wouldn’t leave. I mean it. We aren’t alone anymore…officially at least. Hell, there’s been whispers about things out in space for decades…but now? They’re real. She saw them. Had to process that differently than I had to and then deal with whatever she dealt with…  
I can find her if Jen’ll let me. I can bring her back. She’s let me before…nothing on her legs…except they’re tired…how long was she out there? Hips…fine…ribs, not broken…I don’t sense any hemorrhaging…nothing save for this gash on her ribs. _

“I’m not lost,” she whispered when her back hit the cool sheets.

“No you’re not,” he replied. “You’re right where you need to be: with me.”

 

_Saturday_

Soft pastels. Specks of dust floating in the air. Sun warmed bedsheets that smelled like fresh linen. Fingertips resting against the small of her back. Jen blinked against the morning light filtering in through her window. _Picturesque,_ she thought. Something that would open a shot to a movie or be the subject of photography. Normally, Matt would sleep on this side since the sun wouldn’t wake him, somehow in their sleep they had traded spots. Languid, her limbs stretched outward over the side of the bed relishing the feel of her sheets on her skin.

The logical side of her mind began to catch up with her. Yesterday, beings not of this world came from above and attacked Earth and the weighty realization that there was other life in the universe began to ebb into her mind. Heroes arose. Fought back. Won. Defended the world.  
_Only one needed to show up to protect mine. He did, too. Hero. He is. I’ve always known he is. I’m the starfish, after all._

A lazy glance over her shoulder provided her with Matt’s sleeping form in view, bare chested and sprawled across most of the bed. _Dead to the world. I would be too if it wasn’t for the sunlight. Might as well get up since I’m awake and let him sleep._

Silently as she could muster, Jen slinked out of bed and shouldered her robe before closing the bedroom door when she entered the living room. A quick peek at her kitchen told her that the power was still out which would mean that breakfast options were slim. Remembering she had a solar phone charger, she rummaged through a box in the closet and found her prize.

“Good,” she said to herself once it was set up on her window sill. “That’ll be something, at least. Come on…bingo. I’ve got power. Now…what to do about food…it’s a quarter to eight,” she eyed the clock on her wall and her gaze rested on the shattered phone resting on her counter.  
_I don’t want to wake him up, he rarely sleeps in after me…I don’t want him to worry if I’m gone: his phone’s toast. Might as well use the light I have and get some reading done until the phone’s charged enough to call Chicago. Then Tia…then Foggy…probably should see if I can get into my office voicemailbox to see if John took me up on my offer._

 

“ _Hello, this is Tia.”_

“Hello, my dear,” Jen smiled softly and lifted her feet onto the chair beside her. “How are you feeling today?”

“ _Jen! It’s so good to hear your voice. I’m okay…I feel a little weird about all of yesterday. Is – is that normal?”_

“Considering the magnitude of it all, I’d say yes.”

_“Are you okay? You were amazing yesterday and I mean it. The way you just took control of everything and how you took care of that guy…did you offer him the job?”_

“I did,” she cleared her throat.

_“I understand if you’re uncomfortable about that; but, I thought it was something that Duquesne might have done and that helps define who we are as people.”_

“You’re a better person than me.”

_“I don’t know about that; and that’s the God’s honest truth_.”

“I wanted to let you know that I spoke with Chicago and we have our marching orders for tomorrow, if you don’t mind?”

_“No, absolutely,”_ she chirped happily. “ _I’ll pass the word through the all-call. Fire away, boss lady.”_

“I know I said to have staff start showing up at noon, but as long as the power hasn’t been cut to the building since yesterday, I’d like all staff to show up at six in the morning. Both restaurant and office staff, and I’d like everyone to meet in the restaurant. We’re going to clean up from yesterday and move furniture around.”

_“Oh…kay… Uh…I’m at a loss. Why?”_

“For the next week, we’re going to use Taula to help the people that don’t have power or can’t get food. Duquesne’s already alerted the Red Cross and a whole slew of other aid groups that we’re opening our doors to feed those that need it. Mr. Duquesne would like to assure the staff that they will be getting a check for their work this week that will match their average pay. We need to help New York in the ways that we can.”

_“Some of the staff isn’t going to get the message considering there are people without power. But I’ll see what I can do; I’ll have the managers get counts of people that are able to come in tomorrow. Anything I can do for you?”_

“Nah. I don’t have power, either. My building didn’t get touched but the section of the grid looks dark.”

_“Then how are you talking to me?”_

“Solar charger from when I used to go camping. I may go to the office later and see if I can’t coordinate more definitively with the Red Cross. When you call Étienne, tell him we want simple, easy meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Let’s use up what we’ve got in store first before we place any orders, yeah?”

_“Got it. If you’re going in do you want me to tell him to call you to find a time? You know he’s going to want to get in now to sterilize the kitchen and prep for the week.”_

She pinched the bridge of her nose and nodded, “Might as well. He has my number. Tell him it’s not going to be until at least two or three at the earliest.”

_“If I’m overstepping, tell me…but that guy last night…he said you’d been talking to someone on the phone and you were worried…was – was it him?”_

“Who?”

_“Mr. Murdock. My next guess would be Mr. Nelson.”_

“It was. I told him to stay put and stay safe. Didn’t listen, naturally; stubborn ass made it all the way to Chelsea from Columbia on his own in that mess. That man’s going to give me a stroke one day.”

_“Holy shit! …sorry. Is he okay?”_

“He’s fine. He’s sleeping at present. I’m going to have to go out and get breakfast soon. Pickings are slim at _Casa de MacDougall_. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call, yeah?”

“ _Yeah. Stay safe and same goes for you. Let me know what I can do to help and I’ll do my thing. Bye.”_

The corner of her eye caught the bedroom door gliding open to reveal a half-awake Matthew shuffling into the living room. He’d wrapped the sheet around his waist and had a serious case of bedhead.

“Morning.” His head cocked in her direction and bobbed a hello while he yawned. “You’re a sight today. You good?”

“Sleepy. Someone kept me up all night.”

She poked her tongue into the side of her cheek, “You weren’t complaining at the time.”

He walked by and placed a quick kiss on her cheek before sitting at the table beside her. “I wasn’t complaining, just stating fact. What time is it?”

“Close to ten. You were out and I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Hmm,” he nodded and patted her legs resting on his chair. “I’m starving.”

“Bet you are. But, uh…at present I have uncooked pasta noodles and butter...and crackers…and some peanut butter. Not a whole lot here; I was supposed to go shopping yesterday. Got busy.”

“We could head to my place if you want. We’re stocked.”

“Foggy told me to keep you until Monday,” she snickered. “Problems at the Odd Couple’s residence.”

Matt bit his bottom lip and inhaled deep into his belly. “I figured I’d be in the doghouse after I shoved him out of the way. Jen, I – I couldn’t just leave you…”

“Yes, you could have,” she retorted, sipping from her water glass. “You could have listened to me and stayed put where I knew you were safe. But you didn’t. You amazingly made it nearly two miles unscathed and through the dumpster fire that is Midtown.”  
“He’s every right to be upset with you. He cares about you and you’re each other’s best friend. I know you look out for him, but in his own way Foggy’s looking out for you, too. You should call him later and apologize.”

“I haven’t apologized to you yet.”

“Yes, you did,” she lightly kicked his side. “Last night around three.”

“Oh, that,” Matt smiled devilishly at the memory. “Guess I did. That was…heh…good.”

“I would like you to call him tonight. Alright? If not for you, then for my piece of mind.”

“Alright. I’ll call later. So I’m your problem until Monday?

“Looks like it.

“However will we pass the time?”

“I’ve got work to do while I wait for power to come back. Might as well hop into the office and make use of electricity, air conditioning, and my coffee pot.”

“Right. What was I thinking,” he rolled his yes.

“So, game plan for today…”

“Yep.”

“Firstly, breakfast. I’m probably just as hungry as you and I’d really like some coffee. Already checked around and there’s a lot of places down towards SoHo that stayed open today. I also need to go to work around two-ish.”

“You’re serious…last night you said that you were closed today. Did that change?”

Jen stretched her arms overhead and felt vertebrae crackle into alignment. She sighed, “No…but Duquesne and I agree that we need to help the people of the city in whatever ways that we can. We’re going to open up the restaurant for people that need fed this week. It’s not a lot, to be honest…but I’m going to try and coordinate with the Red Cross this afternoon a while a few people from the kitchen crew get to work.”

“Not a lot? That’s amazing!” he leaned forward. “You’re helping people that need it after what happened. People not having to worry about where a meal’s coming from is a huge help. Whose idea was it? It was yours, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe,” a coy smile appeared. “He agreed with me, though. We’re primarily opening up to anyone that had their homes damaged or have lost power. The idea is to try and help ease the pressure off the Red Cross. Duquesne’s calling some of the other restauranteurs that he knows in the city and is pitching it as a multi-faceted front…it’s time to help and be a part of the solution.”

“I wonder who helped push that idea along,” the corner of his mouth turned up and his hand rested on her knee.

“Some weirdo, I think. But before we go, I am going to need your help putting some butterfly stitch strips on my ribs. Just in case. Then I’ll bandage it up.”

“I’d like to talk about yesterday before we go, it that’s alright,” his lips pressed into a firm line.

Jen stood and drank the last of her water in two loud gulps. “Yeah alright,” she walked over to her closet and grabbed her small med kit.

“What do you want me to do,” his voice soft.

“I’ll hold the skin where it needs to be if you’ll do the strips.”

“You sure you want a blind guy doing that?”

She rolled her eyes and peeled half of her robe off, “You’ve told me you stitched your dad. I trust you.”

Matt began cleaning the area with the antiseptic she had in the kit and blinked a few times. “Tell me about what happened once we hung up the first time.”

“I, uh, called Duquesne and put the building into a lockdown. Went floor by floor to make sure everyone was out and then,” she inhaled sharply from the alcohol, “got to the bottom of the stair and Tia was being held at knife point by a guy.”

Matt stilled for a moment before returning back to his work. The wad of alcohol-soaked cotton made her shiver; the sting from her cut at the pulling her off task, but once she’d taken a steadying breath he continued and started pressing the strips on her angry skin.

“He was scared. Wouldn’t listen,” she looked out her window and spoke as if it had all been a dream. “I knew what I had to do, you know? Stunned him with a strike to the nose. Got him to lose his balance, tear up; let go of Tia. Tied him up with a belt and some of the kitchen aprons. Got her to safety and I stayed with him. He was bleeding…”

_That explains the blood I smelled in her hair from last night. And the cheap cologne._

“…I’d hit him hard enough. Talked to him. Told me about how he couldn’t get his daughter from school so he came to the restaurant to see if his baby-mama was there because…”

_If I could be half the person she is…how does she do that? Just…knows what to do…wait…did she just say what I think she said…?  
_“Wait, wait, wait…you offered him a job?”

“Sure,” she shivered from the contact from his hands. “Remember Fourth of July…that guard said Duquesne taught his cousin to read…I’m taking a chance on him.”

Matt finished the last of the strips and brushed his fingers over his handiwork. “Okay,” he drew a long breath, “but that doesn’t account for the time it took you to get home; so, what happened?”

While Jen finished dressing her cut, she explained how she kept helping people she came across the entire way home.

“You could have gotten hurt, Jen.”

“Not to quote a very stubborn-assed, Irish American that I know…but I didn’t. And I apologized.”

He pulled his head back and frowned, “When?”

“That would have been around midnight.” Matt snorted and shook his head. “So are we good?”

Exasperated, Matt heaved another weighted sigh and stood up. “Yeah. We’re good. So long as you promise not to do anything stupid like that for a while.”

“I promise if you promise me the same,” she crossed herself and invaded his space.

“Okay.”

“No…nope. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“I’m serious, Matt.”

He pressed his forehead to hers and nodded. “I know. I promise,” his voice soft.

A weight she hadn’t realized that had been pressing down on her mind lifted and an odd feeling of release flooded her.   
“Hmm,” she hummed low in her throat. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Your robe,” he played with the fabric between his fingers, “feels nice.”

Jen murmured a faint laugh. “I’d think so. You’re the one that bought it.”

“That’s why it’s so familiar,” he teased. “Now. You were talking about a game plan earlier.”

“Yeah…”

“I’m going to modify it a bit.”

“Why? What do you need?”

“I’m not ready to leave the apartment yet.”

“Seriously? You just got done telling me you’re starving.” His finger dragged the other shoulder of her robe down her arm. “Really, you just put the steri-strip things on,” she replied flat.

“Might as well make lunch the first meal of the day, just to be safe.”

“Oh, sure,” she tugged at the sheet on his waist. “To be safe.”

 

Matt followed Jen downstairs to the restaurant after Étienne had texted her to say he was in the building. When they rounded the corner, he heard her gasp and her heart skip a beat.

“Miss MacDougall,” Étienne took a step forward. “We talked today, after ze phone call from Miss Tia. We are, eh…how you say, ready to work.”

Tia was smiling and winked at Jen. “I thought,” Jen cleared her throat, “that only a few of you were coming in.”

“I lied,” Tia shrugged. “We want to help. Some of us are out in our own communities doing what we can, some of us are helping by checking on our neighbors, and some of us are babysitting each other’s kids so that the rest of us could be here today.”  
“Jen, you’re one of the best bosses I’ve ever worked for and you always do whatever you can to help us when we need it. New York needs people with your kind of heart right now. New York needs _us_ right now. If that means that we have to be the example to everyone else, so be it. That’s how we roll at this company.”

“All of you?” Jen straightened up and stood tall.

“All of us. We already voted, so good luck kicking us out after this kind of show up.” The staff behind her chuckled. “So, boss lady, what’s the word from Chicago and from the Red Cross?”

“Yeah, boss lady,” Matt elbowed her. “What’s the word?”

Jen shot him a side eye and smirked. “Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Here’s the deal...”


	27. Psalm 47:1

_Two Weeks Later_   
_Monday_

Columbia, Matt had explained to Jen, has each school do their own separate graduation ceremony, but the degree only is conferred by the university president at commencement on a separate day. A good deal of Foggy’s extended family was coming in for the event and the six tickets Foggy received wasn’t going to cut it. Matt gave Foggy five of his tickets and told him not to sweat it.

“So, I know you’re busy considering that tourist season’s approaching and what not,” Matt began one night when they were at his apartment for dinner. “But I wanted to give this to you.”

Jen took the ticket from his hand and stared at it, puzzled. “Me?”

“Well, you’re family, aren’t you? If you can…you know, I – I’d like you to be there.”

“Absolutely.”

“I mean, I know you’ve got a lot of things on your plate and all so I don’t want you to feel obligated…”

“It would be my honor and privilege, Matt.”

Jen made sure that she had Monday afternoon off for their Law School graduation and took Wednesday off for their commencement.  Jen swung by their apartment to help Matt with anything he needed before he had to get to Lerner Hall.

“Blue robes, huh? You’re fancy,” she teased, adjusting his purple-lined hood.

“That’s what I’ve gathered,” he replied, standing still. “Why, what color were your robes?”

“Black,” she replied. “Mine had red cording here with the university crest here and here,” she pointed on his chest. “And my hood was a mustardy-gold.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, so I’m really digging this cotton-candy blue you’ve got going on.” Matt shook his head. “There. You’re good to go,” she patted his cheek.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Anything you need before I head over to meet up with the Nelsons?”

“No, I think I’m good.”

“Okay. I will find you afterwards, alright? I’ve made it my mission to try and get to you before Foggy does.”

“Oh really? That ought to be interesting. I can already imagine you fighting your way through a crowd of graduates.”

“I’ll play nice,” she informed. She gathered her things and began making her way toward the door.

“Jen? Thank you. For, you know…all of it.”

“You’re welcome. For all of it,” she smiled. “Remember, we have dinner reservations tonight at six. Mr. and Mrs. Nelson wanted to go to Taula and it’s Duquesne’s graduation present to you both. I’m picking you up around five.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“ _Ma’am_? You better watch it. Be good and I’ll see you in a bit.”

 

 The Nelson clan was all aflutter doting on Foggy and the shop was a beehive of energy. When Jen crossed the threshold of the shop, she was assaulted with strong perfumes mixing with smells from the store.  
_Oh Jesus. I’m going to get nauseous in here real quick._

“MAC!”

“Yes?” Jen peeked over heads and saw Foggy barreling towards her.

“You’ve got to get me outta here. They’re driving me nuts with the pictures and the everything.”

“No can do, buckaroo. You gotta tough it out. Besides, you should be leaving, like now.”

“You’re a goddess among women, Jennifer MacDougall.”  
He stood on a chair and addressed his family after a few thunderous claps. “Mac’s here which means I have to go get ready. I’ll see you all after!”

Foggy hopped down and kissed her on the cheek before taking off. Leo stood beside her and shook his head.

“What?”

“I’ll never know how those two boneheads lucked out with having you in their lives.”

“Serendipity,” she chuckled, crossing her arms as they both surveyed the hive of activity. “Sheer, dumb luck.”

“Hey, how are you getting over to there today?”

“The company town car.”

“Has anyone called dibs on riding with you?”

“Not yet; I just assumed I was taking some of you since we’re all sitting together.”

“Mac, for the love of all that is good and holy in this world, let me ride with you. Please?” Leo got down on his knees and placed his hands together.

“Yeah, yeah, I guess. Consider it a perk. Though, I could get used to the being on your knees and praying to me thing.”

Leo stood and nudged an elbow at her, “Don’t you usually bring me to their knees anyway?”

“For one reason or another,” she replied cheekily. “Go grab your mom and dad. We’re heading out. I’ll meet you outside.”

 

“ _Matthew Michael Murdock…_ ” the distinguished voice boomed.

Jen and the Nelson clan clapped loudly and a few of them cheered, not able readily hear anything said after his name. Mrs. Nelson leaned over and wanted to know why they didn’t announce Matt being _summa cum laude_.

“Foggy was so proud that Matt’s first in the class; why don’t they announce that?”

“Oh, that,” she whispered. “The law school doesn’t do that. They do recognition for two special classes like it shows here in the program,” Jen pointed to the page. “See, the Harlan Fiske Stone Scholars have a criteria…and don’t quote me on this because Matt explained this a while ago…they need…I think…a three-point-four-ish GPA and have a specific grade level they can’t fall under and something else. I’m sure it says it on the program…”  
“See how Matt and Foggy have this distinction next to their names? That means they’re James Kent Scholars. They had a three-point-eight and got nothing less than an A.”

“Oh! So Foggy did really well. Oh my goodness, I had no idea!”

Jen pulled her head back, confusion scrawled on her face. “Foggy doesn’t tell you about school much, does he?”

“No, not really,” she divulged. “We hear most of it from you, to be honest. He keeps to himself and says that he’s studying most of the time and when he’s not, either you or Matt are with him.” A wry smile and appreciative nod took over Jen’s demeanor. “Why?”

“So, Matt might be first in the class…but would you like to harbor a guess as to who number two is?”

Eyes wide, Mrs. Nelson gasped. “No!” Jen nodded, laughing quietly. “He never said anything! Oh my God! I’m going to kill him!”

“Don’t kill him yet,” Jen wheezed. “He’s gotta pass the bar first.”

She turned to her husband and Leo and hissed, “Did you know about this?!”

“What?”

“Our son is second in the class!”

“No he’s not,” Leo quipped. “No way.”

“Ask Jennifer!”

The men leaned down and looked across to Jen who was failing miserably at containing her hysterics. She wiped a tear from her eye and nodded, spurred to continue laughing.

“Holy shit…” Leo breathed.

“Our son?!” Mr. Nelson beamed in disbelief.

“ _Franklin Percy Nelson…”_

In a similar fashion, the Nelson brood cheered and clapped, perhaps now a little louder than they originally intended. His smile beamed from the stage and Jen felt pride swell in her chest.

 

“Gotcha,” Jen whispered, her hand rested on Matt’s arm.

“Impressive, though Foggy did find me first. So you lost your little game.”

“Damn it,” she huffed. “I thought I was golden. Ah well. So, how do you feel?”

“Great. Commencement is Wednesday to make it official and then I have the bar exam in July. No pressure.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Bigshot,” Jen guided him away from the throng of people. “You’re top of your class, you got academic prizes coming out of your ass, and you’re worried about the bar?”

“I think it’s a healthy worry, Jen.”

“Alright, you dweeb.” She gasped, “Guess what!”

“Uh…you’ve reconsidered your life choices and you’re going to train bears for the rest of your life.”

“Great guess. Solid, but wrong. It has to do with Foggy.”

“Oh, I dunno. What?”

“He didn’t tell his family he was second. And I may have let that slip…”

A devilish smile spread across his face and he laughed. “Oh, his parents are going to murder him.”

“Nah,” she shrugged against his arm. “I told them to wait until he passed the bar first.”

 

_Wednesday_

Commencement started around ten-thirty and finished around noon. Jen’s Columbia boys were both officially graduates and were let out into the world. After the dinner they’d had on Monday, the Nelsons offered to open up the back of the shop for a late lunch.

Jen didn’t have a huge extended family. Her uncle had passed away when she was ten in the line of duty and he hadn’t had any kids yet. Jackie, her mom, was an only child. End of story. Seeing the ‘Nelson Brood’ as Foggy called it all loud and friendly was sometimes unsettling to her.  
_I’m not used to it. I don’t know how he does it. It’s just a lot. They’re so loud and happy and – and are real families like this?_

Overwhelmed after the meal, Jen moved towards the back door and stood in the alley.  
_Chill out, calm down…you make multimillion dollar deals with vendors and you are a strong, independent woman…who doesn’t understand how normal families can coexist without anxiety…_

“You okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah,” Jen turned to the door. “I’ll be fine, Matt.”

“Right. Sure.”

“It’s just a lot, you know? Like…there’s so many of them in there…”

“…and they all get along and are happy and all that?”

She smiled and leaned on the brick wall. “Yeah. Is that normal?”

“From what I’ve read,” he chuckled. “I’m not really the expert on good family dynamics.” The pair laughed, he offered his hand to her and said, “Come on. I know from personal experience the longer we stay away the more likely they are going to come looking _en masse_ and then nowhere is sacred.”

Plopping her hand in his, she grumbled, “Doing this for you, you know, since it’s your graduation day and all, I’ll suck it up.”

“Thanks.”

 

Nelson, Mac, and Murdock stood on her rooftop patio, beers in hand, shoulder to shoulder. Golden rays from the setting sun rested on their faces against a jeweled sky.

“Better?” Jen asked, standing between them.

“Loads. Thanks for getting us out of there. I can take my family in doses.” Foggy smiled.

He nodded, “Agreed.”

“What,” Foggy snorted. “About getting out of there or taking my family in doses?”

“Eh…” Matt teased with a wave of his hand.

“Wait, wait; wait,” Jen said quickly. “Foggy’s wearing his bracelet. Are you wearing yours?”

Matt lifted his arm up and pulled his sleeve toward his elbow to reveal a simple braided bracelet in black, red, and white.

“I told you,” Foggy nudged her, smug. “He’d wear it if you made it.”

“Come on,” Jen urged, her hand moving Matt’s into view. “Picture time.”

“I just got away from picture time,” Foggy whined, but did as she instructed.

With their beers still in hand and their bracelets visible on each wrist, Jen posed the bottles to catch the sun and took a quick photo with her phone. “That’s it. I’m done. I’m putting that one on my desk.”

Foggy sat in a chair and sighed. “Score. That’s how you know we made it, buddy: we’re on a CEO’s desk.”

Matt turned and opened another beer. “I thought you said our fancy offices were the telltale way to know we made it.”

“Fight nicely, boys,” Jen warned. She flicked on the lights overhead and went downstairs to grab some snacks.

“Hey, man, congratulations. You did it.”

“You, too. Your dad would be proud.”

“Thanks.”

“So…”

“What?”

“Look…buddy, I see you.”

Matt sat down on the couch and leaned forward on his elbows. “Well, at least one of us does.”

“You know what I mean. I can see what your face does when you don’t think anyone else is watching.”

“Not following and neither of us has had that much to drink yet.”

“Mac. That’s what I’m talking about. I find you in a crowd, no big deal; Mac finds you, the light goes on. Mac tells you to stop being a dick, you do. She tells you she’s proud of you and it’s like your chest is gonna burst. I see how close you stand to her and the way you listen for her when she’s quiet,” Foggy said quickly with a wary eye on the door. “You have feelings for her, buddy. And not just the ‘ _she’s one of my best friends_ ’ kind of feelings. You just won’t admit it.”

“Foggy, you’re reading too much into it. Want me to start making those expressions around you? I mean, I’m gonna warn you, you already dealt with people thinking we were a couple,” he laughed.

“You’re an ass. You try telling me that again after I remind your stupid ass that you shoved me out of the way to get to her on the other side of Midtown the day those things showed up and you spent the weekend with her. Go ahead. Try me…because I saw the way you came back to school that Monday: walking on cloud nine, buddy.”

“Alright, let me ask you this. Why does it matter so much to you? You bring it up to either one of us more than we think or have thought about it. What’s with the whole matchmaker thing?”

“I just shrugged. I just think that you both are so good for each other and have this overwhelming connection that I don’t really see you have with any other women and – and you just seem to make each other better in a good way.”

The door opened and Jen unloaded bags of chips and pretzels, a jar of salsa and a bowl of olives on the table. “You two good?”

“Yeah,” Matt leaned back onto the couch. “You?”

“Yep,” she plopped down on the couch. “I also made up the guest room and pulled the futon out in the office if you two decide to indulge tonight.”

“Always the responsible and sensible one,” Foggy toasted her.

Matt cocked his head and showed his disbelief. “Responsible and sensible? I seem to remember someone dancing on cars…”

Jen covered his mouth with her hand, “Shh. Listen to Foggy. He’s right. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The Musketeers roared with laughter and spent the evening reminiscing, planning the future, and poking fun at one another. Despite all of the bad in the world and the bad that had happened in her world, something like this would sit fresh in her memory for a long time.  
The memories she had with Dom like this were just as vivid: the smell of wet grass and humidity in the air, the sound of bees buzzing around wildflowers, the sun setting behind them, a taste of freedom on their tongues and running through a field of tall grass when playing tag immediately popped into mind. They here twelve or so. It was a good summer. They’d _run away_ to an old treehouse in the neighborhood and lived there for four days on Lunchables, jerky, and juice boxes. Mr. Bonner knew where they were. He could see them from his house and didn’t tell them until they were grown.

“What are you thinking about, Mac?”

“Dom,” she replied with a soft smile. “Stuff like this, they’re my favorite memories with him. It was very much his thing to have quieter celebrations like this.” Foggy pressed his lips together and looked down. “No, Fog; it’s – it’s good. It’s a good thing. That means this here, right now, it’s right up there with those memories. I’m okay. This is right.”

A dark chuckle sat in her belly and she drank deeply from her beer. “Book of Psalms: Chapter forty-seven; verse one.”

“My Old Testament’s a bit rusty,” Matt smirked.

“Just something that I remember from Sunday school. Pertains to how I feel about the two of you.” A sideways glance from Foggy spurred her onward. “ _Clap your hands, all you nations; shout to God with cries of joy.”_  
“I am so, so very proud of you both.”

 

Foggy and Jen stood at the sink cleaning up from dinner while Matt was left dozing off on the patio couch.   
“He’s made himself at home,” Foggy rolled his eyes.

“You’re the one that told me to watch over him when he did his dumbass-ery during the Battle for New York. With school officially out and you two looking for a place to live…his stuff’s in the office and guestroom at the moment. I found a couple places last month, but he didn’t really care for them,” Jen smacked Foggy with the dishtowel.

“Hey!”

“Surrender,” she pointed at him ready to strike again. “Hi-yah!”

“Alright, alright,” he laughed and rubbed his arm. “You win! Man…chores are just ruthless with you.”

Jen bowed at her waist and went back to drying. “I’m the master. Speaking of places, did you find one yet?”

“Yeah, but nothing I can afford until I start working. We’re both scheduled to take the bar exam the same day, so that’ll help…but we have to wait ten weeks for them to process it and let us know if we passed or not.”

Jen winced, “Ouch. Matt brought that up. So what are you going to do?”

“I’m staying at my folks’ place for now. I’d much rather live with Matt again, but until we’re working…there’s no way.”

“You could have the office if you wanted, Foggy,” she offered, thoughtful.

He shrugged, “Thanks. I appreciate it. But I think he’ll enjoy not hearing me snore for a bit and then realize how evil you are and come crawling back to me.” Foggy’s laugh rumbled in his belly, “Be-besides, it’s your turn to deal with him long-term.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on, Mac. Seriously?”

Jen turned, hand on her hip, and started down her friend. “Mr. Nelson…?”

“Okay, just hear me out…”

“If this is another one of your _star-crossed, I ship you two so hard, why won’t you…_ things, I swear to God…I’m going to punch you in the arm and you know I know about pressure points. I could make your arm go numb for a month,” her voice flat.

“He went after you two weeks ago and – and when I came over that Thursday for dinner, you were in such a better space, Mac. I don’t know what you two talked about or got up to while he was here, but…ow!” he shouted, holding his shoulder.

“I told you.”

Foggy scowled and stuck his tongue out at her. “Worth it.”

 

“You heard,” Jen tossed over her shoulder from the bathroom. “Then you know I didn’t punch him that hard.”

“I know how hard you hit when you mean it,” Matt replied with a knowing smirk. He slid his legs under the sheets and stretched.

Jen rounded the corner and stopped by the bed, “Making yourself comfortable?”

Matt reached out and rested a hand on her hip; a cocky, lopsided grin on his face, “Would you prefer that I not be here?”  
_A touch here, drag my fingertips down to her knee… Heart’s skipped a beat. Breathing’s ragged. Oh, Jesus. That thing she does…rolling her neck and the growl on the back end of a sigh…she knows that does things to me._

“You think you’re just moving in here and getting domestic? Taking over my room?” she husked. Her knee brushed across his stomach as she crawled across him.

“Where are you going?” his hands cinched around her waist.

Jen leaned on his chest. “It’s my bed.” Jen felt pressure digging into her thigh and whispered in his ear, “Really…you know, Matt, just because…”

Matt kissed her rough, teeth tugging on her bottom lip as he pulled back for air.“ Jen,” he groaned when her nails dug into his skin. “Just…shut up.”

 

_Two o’clock alarm. Weight of muscle and skin across my stomach. Cologne, perfume, musk and sex. Good night…hmm…better night._ Jen looked down her chest and the length of Matt’s back with a smile.  
“I know you’re awake,” she whispered and flicked on the light. He groaned unintelligibly in response. “I need to get up. It’s Thursday, Matthew.”

“Do you always get up this early on Thursdays?” his limbs quaked as he stretched, voice full of gravel.

“I’m in the office by three.”

Matt snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her body flush against him. “Shame. I was just getting my second wind.”

“Second? Did you lose count?” she rolled over to face him. “Tsk, tsk. Your mind’s starting to go, old man. Shame that it’s starting so quickly after graduation.”

“Old man?” he growled in her ear. “I don’t have to take that from you.” Matt pinned her hands over her head and gently bit along her collarbone.

“That rules out the blouse I was going to wear today,” she gasped. “Matt…”

He paused and shrugged, “It was worth a try to keep you in bed a little longer. Do you want me to come with you today?”

“I’m – I’m not ready for that yet…it’s still a thing that I need to do on my own, you know?”

“Yeah,” Matt placed a quick kiss on her forehead. “I understand.” He sensed Jen slide out of bed and saunter into the shower. The steam billowing from around the doorway filled his lungs eliciting a sigh.  
“What do you want for dinner?”

“Foggy’s coming over for dinner, so whatever he’s cooking.”

“Ah, right…do you want me to leave when he’s over? I know you two have your thing. I don’t want you to think that I’m intruding on your routine.”

“No, I want you to stay for dinner. You can make sure he doesn’t burn the place down until I get home.”

Matt shuffled up against the headboard and crossed himself. “Right.”

“Matt,” Jen’s tone on the accusatory side. “You good in there, hot shot?”

_To be honest, no. I was asleep and dreaming about you again and then your alarm went off. You smell so damn good all of the time and I’m in your bed and Jesus, the things I want to do to you right now; have you do to me…_  
“I’m good, just tired.”

She stepped back into the bedroom and gave Matt a once over, eyes lingering at the pooled sheet around his waist and the very physical evidence of what he wanted.  
“Uh-huh. You know I don’t believe that, right?”

Another lazy smile and the skip of a heartbeat. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

“Tsk, tsk: what am I going to do with you, Murdock? Sex on the brain when you’re not thinking about law; that’s got to be tiresome.”

“It is when you’re involved. You wear me out.”

“So you’ve said,” she put her towel-dried hair up in a neat bin. “But I’m sure you say that to all of the girls.”

“No, just you.”

“I feel honored,” she slid into her pencil skirt. “At least you can keep up.”

“Oh, and here I thought it was the multiple orgasms I give you.”

Her breath hitched in her throat, mouth dry; an ache building low in her abdomen.   
_Play it cool, you dumbass. Don’t let him figure it out quite yet._   
Jen continued to get dressed. “Any man can do that.”

“Oh?” he nodded with a sarcastic tone. “Tell me about all of these men you’ve had in your bed…how many of them you keep bringing back? And, as a matter of record, how many of their names do you scream out?”

“Listen here, you little shit,” she turned, tone tongue-in-cheek. “If you think saying those things to me is going to jump back into bed with you, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Ooh, someone’s feisty this morning.”

“That’s your fault. Usually happens when I spend time with you.” Jen bent down to grab a bracelet from her nightstand and felt a sharp sting on her rear. “Matthew,” she chastised.  
_Don’t jump him, don’t jump him….damn he’s fine this morning. Look at that jaw. Face. Chest. Hip. Stop. Down girl. Work time._

“Yes?”

“Try to get some studying done today, hot shot. I’d sleep off whatever you’ve got in your system.” Jen grabbed her keys and her breakfast from the fridge. “Actually,” she turned back to face the bedroom, “Don’t. I deal with you later.”  
_You hot as fuck little shit. God damn._

Matt fell back into the luxurious pillows and mattress with a groan when she left. _Damn it. I’m not going back sleep anytime soon. Might as well go get a cold shower._

 

“ _Miss MacDougall?”_

“Tia?”

“ _Mr. Murdock is here to see you.”_

Gray warm, summer light filtered in through her windows; rays casting their gleam onto the floor of her office. Jen snorted. “You don’t have to call him Mr. Murdock unless he’s here on official business.”

_“I don’t know,”_ she whispered over the phone. “ _He’s in a suit and looks rather official. Did a fight of yours go down wrong recently?”_

“No. Not that I’m aware of…I haven’t had a tournament in over a month… In a word, how would you describe him at present?”

_“...uh…tense?”_

“Shit…what did I do? What did I forget to do? It’s not his birthday…or Foggy’s…”

_“You don’t have any meetings and you’re out of here in an hour. Want me to send him in or tell him to come back tomorrow?”_

Jen sighed, “Send him in. I’m probably getting bitched at for something.”

_“But you’re the boss…he doesn’t get to boss you around.”_

“Yeah, well, if I messed up he sure as hell’s going to tell me.”

Her doors opened and Matt turned to her assistant, terse, “Thank you.”

“Tia,” Jen furrowed a brow, “See to it that I’m not disturbed until Mr. Murdock’s done here. Please and thank you.”

“Yes, ma’am. If I may go to lunch while you have your meeting?”

“Absolutely.” Tia left quietly; Matt straightened his tie.   
“Alright, Matthew,” her tone firm, “what did I do now…and what’s with the suit?” He tossed his jacket on the table and turned toward her with hands on his waist. “What? Silent treatment now? Seriously? Are you trying to pull some of your fancy lawyer shit on me because it’s not working.”

“You’re being served,” his face placid, lips pressed together.

Her heart plummeted through her stomach, eyes scanning over his features. The beginnings of stubble shaded his jaw where a nerve was jumping angrily.   
“You’re serious?” Matt didn’t waver. Jen rounded her desk and stood to his left, “Who…who in the name of Christ…and how did _you_ find out?”

“I’ve been living with you, Jen; it only makes sense.”

“No, it doesn’t unless you’re working by proxy as the person giving me legal advice…be-because as much as I have faith in you and your prowess of law, you’re not an attorney yet. The state won’t recognize you as my legal counsel and…”

Matt rolled his sleeves to his elbows and inhaled sharply, “You’re getting ahead of yourself. Stop and breathe.”

“Stop and breathe?! Are you fucking kidding me? Matt! You haven’t even told me…”

Matt cocked his head and leaned in her direction, “Stop and breathe.” With a huff, Jen inhaled deeply and quieted herself. “Good.”

Jen squinted at the slow smile splayed in his face. “What are you doing? Your face is doing a thing.”

“Do you realize how much of a pain in the ass you are?” he arched a sly brow.

“Uh, yes; I do. And when I seem to forget it, you kindly remind me,” her words sharp. “What does that have to do with anything?” The back of his knuckles trailed down her arm and Jen immediately felt her breathing become ragged.  
_Oh. Oh Jesus. That’s what this is about._  
“You want to bone that bad, go find a co-ed at one of the bars near Columbia. I hear you have quite the following. I’m at work.”

“Is that what you want? Me going and finding some random one-night stand? Of course, that means that someone else would be saying my name tonight instead of you.”

“Ha,” she scoffed. “You make it seem like I’m the one not in control of the moment. That’s amusing. Really had me going there for a minute, Matt. I’m working.”

An arm curled around Jen’s waist and tugged her in front of him. “Are you though? You and I both know how efficient you are, that you’ve been sitting around for the past twenty minutes mulling over a report that you’re going to get into tomorrow. You probably even debated leaving early today because you knew that I was more than likely still going to be at your apartment. And if I wasn’t, you’d sure as hell come find me to let me know I was on your mind off and on today, because let’s face it: you’re hot for me.”  
“I took some of the legwork off the table for you. Here I am at your place of work. You’re telling me that there’s no thrill in that?”

Her heart was beating in her throat. Face on fire, fingertips numb. She was very aware that he knew exactly what buttons to push, so she decided to even the playing field.  
“You come here into my office,” she balled his shirt in her fist, “and try to flaunt what, your good looks and what you call sexual prowess to get a rise out of me? Please, you’ll have to try much harder than that.”

“I doubt it,” he panted. “You’re forgetting that I know what you like.”

“Not forgetting. Ignoring. Go find someone else to play with, Matthew.”  
_JESUS CHRIST, GIRL! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU SAYING THAT FOR?! Ride that man like a fucking stallion and enjoy it! What’s wrong with you?!_

“No.”

“No?” the lingering smell of his soap and the coffee on his tongue filled her head. “ _No_? You’re going to tell me ‘no’ in my office?”

“In this moment, right here and now, _I_ don’t want anyone else, Jennifer,” he brushed his tongue along the seam of his lips. “I need you and you know it.”

“You wanting me right now isn’t my problem. You don’t need me.”

“Yes, I do.”

_Oh, Jennifer. You idiot. You damn fool.  
_“So, what…you expect me just to drop everything in my day and fawn over you like some one-night-stand or one of your ex-girlfriends? We both know that isn’t going to happen.”

“No, I would hope not,” he took a step forward and guided her to the edge of her desk. “That would be uncharacteristic of you and an insult to us both.”

“You could admit it,” Jen enthroned herself on her desk. Matt popped up a brow and she continued, “You might have a little more than just a thing for me.” _Oh, that was an eyeroll._ “Admit it, Matt; it’ll make me getting on with my day a little easier.”

“Your day? Oh. No, darlin’…this isn’t just about you.”

“Curious, though,” her stomach flipped when he nipped at her neck. “You said I was being served and I don’t believe that you were lying to me.”

“Well,” his demeanor cocky, “I’m here. I’m ready to _serve_ you if you’ll permit me.”

 

“How was church,” Matt asked from his seat.

Jen shrugged and to Foggy’s amusement she replied, “Churchy.”

“And how was she doing today?” Murdock continued.

“Wasn’t a good day. Nurses said she wasn’t taking to treatment as well as they’d hoped,” she sighed. “Alisha said that she wasn’t responding to stimuli either.”

“I’m sorry, Mac. That really sucks,” he flipped the pan of pasta with a flick of his wrist. “How was work?”

“Had some trouble getting out of bed this morning. Got most of my work done, but then I had some asshat come into the office an hour before I was going to leave.”

“What did they want?’

“Tried pushing his personal agenda.” Matt leaned back in his chair and sipped from his beer; she smirked.

“What a jackass,” Foggy shook his head. “I hope you let him have it.”

“Oh I did,” she looked at him and waved the thought off nonchalantly. “Laid into him and rode him for nearly the whole hour.” Matt choked and spat beer across the table, sputtering air back into his lungs.

“Buddy, you good over there?”

“Yeah,” he gasped, expression alarmed.

“Jesus, Matt. Drink much?” she teased. The scowl she received in response delighted her. “How was your day?”

“Yeah, what did you get up to?” Foggy began plating dinner.

“Uh…not, uh…not much. Studied some and then went out.”

Foggy set the plates down and looked over at his friend. “Dude, what did you get into today? You’ve got dirt on you,” he brushed his hand at Matt’s neck much to his protesting. “OH! Buddy! Way to go!”

Jen’s eyes shot up and she grinned. “Matt, is that a hickey?”

“You’re a bunch of assholes.”

“Come on, buddy! You haven’t gone out with someone in ages. Was it that girl from the bodega? What’s her name?”

“Look, Fog,” she pointed. “See how red he is? Come on, Matty; what’s her name?”

“Fiona.”

“God, I knew it! You manage to have a make out session while Mac and I are slaving our lives away. What are we doing wrong?” he turned to her and plopped down in his seat.

Jen laughed heartily put her napkin in her lap. “I don’t know man. But when you figure it out, will you let me know?”

 

Feather-light kisses were placed at each shadow of bruising along his neck and shoulder. “Fiona, huh?”

“I thought it was appropriate. Scottish _and_ meaning fair.”

“Better watch it,” she warned admiring her handiwork from earlier. “He’s intelligent, Matt. He can figure that one out.”

He snorted and carded his fingers through her hair. “Me? You’re the one that said…wait, let me see if I can quote you on this…’laid into him and rode him’. But, yeah, let’s go with your words of warning instead.”

“I told you that I’d deal with you later,” her chin rested on his chest. “Didn’t tell you how.”

“Here I thought I might get lucky tonight. Damn.” When she rolled over he pulled her back flush against his chest and ran his fingertips up and down her side, Jen purred in delight. “Are you mad that I showed up at the office?”

“No,” her fingers threaded with his. “You’re just a pain in the ass.”

“Literally or figuratively speaking?”

“Both. Next time don’t make me think I’m getting sued.”

_Perfume. Her hair. Strength of muscle juxtaposed against softness skin.  
_“I thought it was good. You didn’t seem to mind.” She hummed in response and the vibrations traveled through her back into his chest. “I won’t make it a habit. Tia might get suspicious.”

“She’s already suspicious. I didn’t hire her because she’s not observant. She sees things, notes them in her head and follows through; knows how to get the job done without me having to hold her hand. Though, you coming in with the stern lawyer routine will have her perplexed for a while.” Jen sputtered, “Probably thinks we got into another argument, to be fair.”

“I overheard her asking about the fights. She knows about that, too?”

“She assumed it was from my martial arts class. I haven’t corrected her. Works out in my favor when you leave marks.”

“You can always tell me to stop.”

“If it bothered me, you would have heard about it by now, Matt. Oh, remember that tomorrow I’m taking off lunch to go look at an apartment with you.”

“Ah, yeah. Of course.”

“You forgot.”

“N-no, just temporarily waived cognizance of it. That happens when you’re around.”

“You mean when you get a good lay and happen to be allowed to stay the night,” her tone cheeky.

Matt sighed and drew the blanket over their waists. “When you put it that way…”

“Bet you say that to all the girls, Murdock.”

“I don’t. It’s not warranted because it wouldn’t be true.”

Her head turned and she looked at him quizzically over her shoulder. “You’re inferring you’ve never humored a one-night-stand before; is that what I’m getting?”

“Ha…no, I have. I’m just saying that, that you know, even though you can tell when I’m not being honest I still end up being truthful with you anyway…my joking aside.”

“You’re getting sappy on me, Matt. If you keep this up, I’m going to have to assume you have feelings for me,” she teased.

The feeling of his smile growing, lips brushing against the shell of her ear; it was something that she hadn’t realized she had craved. Eyes closed and head tilted backward into his shoulder, Jen murmured an unintelligible word of delight. For the next few minutes whispered, soothing words lulled her to sleep and she wondered what it might be like to succumb to sleep in such a manner every night.

It took some time, moments woven together to create a kind of tapestry engrained in memory; but soon Jen was fast asleep in his arms, flush against him. The feeling of her back stretching against his chest with each breath began to hypnotize him towards sleep.  
“Jen,” his voice low. “You’re right, you know. You usually are. I care about you. More than I should. I need you in my life. I just wish I could tell you that when you were awake…instead of telling you when you’re dreaming…so – so that you’d know…that I do need you.”

 

_Saturday_

“You weren’t a fan, don’t lie.”

“Jen, it was okay. I could make it work.”

She took a sip from her coffee while Matt paid the cashier. “Yeah…no. I’m making my apartment work. I like it. It suits my needs and It’s fairly close between work and The Kitchen. That’s making it work. You may not realize it, but you have these subtle expressions you make when you’re focused on things that displease you.”

“Well, you guys would know on that account.”

“Matt,” she grabbed his arm and made him stop. “You didn’t like it. That’s fine. I’m not mad; honest. So that I can help you better: what didn’t you like about it?”

“I…” he shrugged. “It was loud.”

“Okay.”

“Okay? You’re just going to take that and run with it without giving me the third degree?”

“You can hear better than me. I believe you. I’ll keep looking. Hey, would you mind stopping at this shop? I need to get a pair of sunglasses. Mine kicked the bucket since _someone_ sat on them this morning.”

“Yeah, sure. In my defense though, I didn’t _see_ them there. Eh? _Eh_? Oh, come on. That was funny. You’re not laughing. That joke was great.”

“Ntk,” she clicked her tongue and entered the shop. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Makes up for other qualities I lack as a human being.”

“Oh, right,” she nodded, a sarcastic eye spying on him. “Because you lack in so many departments.”

“Ask my last girlfriend.”

“What was her name, again? I seem to have forgotten,” she perused the rack.

“Ha ha. You’re hysterical.”

“Thanks for noticing,” she chuckled, grabbing a pair of aviators. Pausing, Jen grabbed another pair and held them between her fingers. “Humor me?”

“With what? Those are my glasses, Jen,” he shook his head as she slid them off his nose. “Jen,” his eyes closed, “some people get uncomfortable because I’m blind.”

“And?” her tone sharp. “The frames you have right now are squared off. They’re okay, but they hide a lot of what your face is doing. You emote a lot near your eyes. I like these ones: they’re round.” Jen placed the new sunglasses on his face and adjusted them. “Lenses are dark red, in case you were wondering… Hmm. I like them.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the pair you just took off of me.”

“Oh, outside of the fact that I’ve glued them twice and they look sad. These ones make you look…smart.”

Head bent down, he shook his head slowly. “You really had to reach for that. I’m touched.”

“I’m buying them. Besides, you said that Landman and Zack called this morning and offered you the paid internship… _with_ the provisional add-on that once you pass the bar, you will be offered a job.” Matt groaned. “That’s what I thought. One of us has to care about your appearance at your new job.”

“Thanks, _mom_.”

“You’re welcome. Did you call Foggy yet?”

“Yeah – yeah. He got in, too.”

 

_September_

“How was work today, boys?”

“Great. I love having a broom closet for an office,” Foggy rolled his eyes and began grabbing plates out of the cabinet.

“I don’t know. It’s kind of growing on me . The view’s not so bad.”

Jen looked over her shoulder and blinked. “That wasn’t really good, even for you. Minus five points.”

“Yes, exactly!” Foggy gestured emphatically to Jen. “You moved out of here into that little studio and you aren’t funny anymore, Murdock. All hail the queen!”

“Thank you, thank you, my humble peasants.”

“I don’t know if humble’s the right word…but sure, whatever you say, your highness,” Matt poked.

“Keep it up, hot shot,” she warned with a grin, “or you won’t get dinner. I’ll give Foggy yours.”

“Yes!” the blond whispered.

Whiffs of cream, salt, tomatoes, garlic and basil floated on the waves of warm air in Jen’s apartment. _Tomato basil soup. Haven’t had that in a while._ “If that’s the soup I think I smell, I’ll call you whatever you want.”

“That’s better. So, back to my previous question: how was work?”

“It was alright. They’ve given us some cases to start reading through and taking notes on. It’s a start.”

“A start? It’s boring. They don’t even let us in the room yet when they have meetings. We still are on the bottom level of the bottom tier, buddy.”

“Hey,” Jen served dinner and sat at the table. “You have to start somewhere. Do what you can to make the world better and you’ll progress upward.”

“Pfft…says the woman that made CEO in less than three years,” Foggy dug in a playful elbow to her side.

“I’m not the best example, but; I will say this: I do watch my employees and look at what they do within my confines of the company and they get rewarded accordingly. Sometimes it’s more paid leave, a bonus; a promotion…you guys keep busting your tails like you always have, I have no doubt that you won’t start making the climb. If they don’t, shame on them and find someone that _will_ appreciate your work.”

Matt rested his hand on her bicep and pointed at Foggy, “That’s exactly what I was going to say.”

“Sure it was.”

“How’s the studio, Matt?” Jen asked between spoonfuls of soup. “Need help with anything over there?”

“No, it’s alright,” he frowned quickly. “It’s serving its purpose for now. I didn’t want to overstay my welcome here.”

Foggy and Jen looked at each other, silent communication of similar thoughts. “Overstay your welcome? How so?” Foggy asked.

“I’d been here since May and wasn’t really helping with rent.”

Jen folded her arms across her chest, “Yeah; I told you not to. You were responsible for helping with shopping and water. That was it.”

“Yeah, I know…but…it’s fine. I’ve got the studio that I’m in right now, a–and you both have said that you’ll help me try to find a real apartment once my lease starts going at the end of December”

“Buddy,” he probed, “you had a really good gig here staying with Mac. Did you two have a fight and me not know about it?”

“Or me,” Jen added. “It’s fine. If you’re content over there, we’re kosher. Honest.”

Matt leaned back in his chair and inhaled sharply. “Rule three.”

“Oh, not this again,” Foggy groaned and noticed Jen had stilled. “You two have this secret code and it’s annoying that I don’t know what it is.”

“You two have your own thing,” Jen reminded him. A quick dab of her napkin to her mouth, she stood up and walked to her office, returning a moment later with her gym bag.  
“I’ve lost my appetite,” Jen said with some finality. “Make sure you two lock up my apartment when you leave.”

“Jen…”

“Aw, come on, Mac…”

The door slammed shut and she was gone.

“What did you do,” his tone harsh. “Mac knew exactly what you were talking about and now she’s gone. What did you do?”

Murdock pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned on the table edge with his elbows. “I was just being honest. Sometimes it’s still a little raw and we both get mad about it.”

“Great. That’s just great,” he threw his hands up. “This shit…right here? This is why she’s too good for you. Here’s a prime reason why you two aren’t a thing. Whatever you did, you better go an apologize to her.”

“Foggy, look…”

“Now.”

“You – you want me to go after her when she’s mad and more than likely going to forget that I’m blind and lay a fist into me?”

“Do you deserve it?”

“No! We have those coded rules for a reason! She’s used the third one on me loads of times.”

“Dunno, Matt,” Foggy’s eyes lingered on the door. “Mac seems pretty pissed. I’d go after her if I were you. But hey, you live your life, man. Just don’t come crawling back to me when she verbally comes a-swinging.”

 

_…thud, thud, thud, thud…_

“Let me get this straight,” Tia huffed. “You two are a thing but not a thing…that explains everything,” she rolled her eyes.

_…thud, thud, thud, thud…_

“It goes without saying, complicated is an understatement,” Jen replied. Fire scorched her veins and needles of air stung her lungs. Muscle and bone worked in conjunction with her ire; heels continued to slam onto the treadmill track.

_…thud, thud, thud, thud…_

“Alright, I’ll bite. Are we talking as friends or with you as my boss?”

“Friends. I could use some of your cynicism in view at the moment.”

_…thud, thud, thud, thud…_

“What about all of this really pisses you off so much? I mean…you said that the pair of you have these rules and you’ve got this beefed up friends-with-benefits thing going on for the better part of nearly three years. Why are you mad that he let you know that there was someone else…like you both have done this entire time?”

Each stride clicked in her mind, a physical metronome to keep pace. “I’m not sure,” she offered in honesty. “I just…I think for a second there…I thought…he needed me.”

“Okay…”

“The same way I often think that I need him.” Tia slammed a hand on her machine’s stop button and stared at Jen in disbelief. “I don’t have any evidence for it; but…I don’t know. Something changed back in May and – and I woke up one morning and thought that he’d changed the parameters.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I let him. I let him define what the parameters were without agreeing to them. Maybe that’s what pisses me off…Matt eased me into thinking that there was something more there and I got comfortable. …stupid…” she huffed, shutting her own machine off.

Tia nodded, lips pressed tight into a frown. “Do you love him?”

“Tia.”

“It’s a simple yes or no, but everything behind it is entirely complex. Trust me. I get it. Malia is nothing like the girl I even imagined being with. She’s sweet and bubbly and precious and too pure for this world at times…but I need her. Like the air I breathe. I need to celebrate her happiness with her and her sorrows. Now, that in mind, what is it?”

Skin tinged pink, the tips of her ears burned. “I care about him more than I do anyone else.”

“Do you love him?”

“I don’t know.”

She shrugged and covered her face in a plush towel. “If you don’t know how would anyone else?”

Something pulled on her mind, weighty and taking up the breadth of her conscious thought. A turn back toward the console and the slam of her hand on the screen made the track roar back to life.

_…thud, thud, thud, thud…_

Her assistant threw up her hands and tossed her towel back into her bag. “You running until you can’t walk isn’t going to do you any favors.”

“What makes you think I’d run that long?”

_…thud, thud, thud, thud…_

“Because,” Tia shouldered her bag, “you’re stubborn and angry and we both know that you’ll go three days without sleep to get it out of your system if something at the office pissed you off this much. I’m going to provide professional courtesy and remind you that you have a board meeting at ten-thirty tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.”

 

_Running. Kept running. Burn it out. Don’t let that demon crawl up your throat and lash out. Bury it down. Reinforce that cage. I had to. Bury it. Hide it. Away.  
_Elevator lights harshly rained their luminescence into every corner. Exhaustion. What should be muscle was gel, immobile and nonfunctioning. She leaned heavily against the wall and a strong shoulder.

“I-i-it’s a-alright, M-m-miss Jen. Let’s g-get you t-t-t…to bed.”

“Thank you, Oscar,” the smell of Old Spice wafted into her nose. “You didn’t have to…”

“N-n-no wor-wor-worries. You help me all the t-t-t-time.”  
His arm hooked around her waist and helped to guide her down the hallway. Once she opened her door, Oscar aided her collapsing onto her couch.  
“Is there an-n-n-nything I can get y-you be-be-be-before I go?”

“No, Oscar, thank you…you’ve – you’ve really done plenty. Thank you for coming to get me.”

Quietly, the patter of shuffling feet moved about her apartment. Clunk of glass and ceramic on wood. An eye popped open and looked at her coffee table: glass of water, two capsules of Tylenol, and a peanut butter and banana sandwich. A cold water bottle was tucked behind her neck.  
“My s-son,” his voice warm as he picked up and propped her legs over a couch pillow. Expert hands nabbed her blanket and tucked it around her. “He’s a run-r-r-runner. M-make sure y-y-you eat that soon. T-take care of y-y-yourself, a-alright?”

“Yessir,” she yawned, the chenille blanket pulled under her chin. “You know about the meeting tomorrow, right?”

Oscar shuffled to the door and nodded, “Yes. I’ll b-be at the airport a-a-at eight-thirty. Goodn-n-night, Miss Jen.”

_That fire. Burning. How it used to be. The rage. The fight. That’s what I want…that adrenaline. The fire in my gut…my phone is in my pocket…just a phone call…that’s all it is…I’m back in the circuit tomorrow night. Matt didn’t want me fighting underground anymore…only at the dojo… What does it matter anyway? He changed the rules. God damn it. Like there was something… Made me feel…_

_It doesn’t matter what Matt Murdock wants. I want to feel. I want fire._

_Fuck him. I want to burn._


	28. Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hello all!_   
>  _I'm sorry it's taken me a minute to update compared to my 'normal' schedule._
> 
> _I do want to let you know that I got a promotion and started a new job this summer! This means that I'm figuring out how to juggle my time over the next couple months, so updates may not be weekly or bi-weekly for a while._
> 
> _Never Fear!_  
>  _I do have a good bit of this story written and will get it to you!_  
> 

_Early December_

The Columbia boys were caught in the bustle of New York in December heading to a college’s small concert hall. Jen had been playing with an advanced community group in the area as a means of a creative outlet and Foggy couldn’t have been more proud.

Over the fall months, she’d managed to balance her grappling tournaments, gone to Madrid to scout properties for Duquense Enterprises, had her most profitable quarter, took care of both him and Matt when they were sick without catching their colds, and only missed one music practice due to the Halloween Gala she hosted every year. Even at that, Jen was being sent to London in a few weeks to ensure that Duquesne’s new establishment, _The Grey Lion_ , got on its feet as unscathed as possible.

“Here we are, buddy. These are our seats. You want the aisle or no?”

Matt shrugged, “Doesn’t matter. I can sit on the aisle. Can you read the room to me?”

“Sure. Two exits on either side of the stage, there are three sections of seating. It’s pretty packed, if you can’t tell. There’s people everywhere.”

“Yeah. She, uh, said that this group’s Christmas Festival thing is pretty popular.”

“I’ll say: my mom was surprised and a bit jealous we were going. Mac said it’d be about two hours, right?”

Matt smirked, “Uh, yeah. Why? Planning on ducking out? You know that she’ll notice and be pissed.”

“No,” Foggy sounded offended. “I will happily sit here and listen to Christmas music…for…two…whole…hours…”

Murdock’s laugh boomed around them. “We _are_ going out to dinner after, remember? Made reservations at that place she likes.” A quick pause had Foggy elbow him. “Sorry. Hey, has…has Jen been cancelling Thursdays with you?”

“No. I get done earlier on Thursdays and she hasn’t been spending as much time at church. Said she wanted to go to bed earlier because she’s been so tired. Why, she been bailing on you?”

Matt frowned and wiped his hands on his pantlegs. “I – I dunno, man. It feels like it sometimes. But then I talk to you or send her a message and come to find out how busy she is right now and…” shoulders slumped, he sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Probably should ask her.”

“Nah; it’s probably me just over thinking it.”

“That’s more reason to ask her.”

“Dude. No.”

“I’ll ask her for you.”

“No.”

“Sure, buddy. What are friends for?” a glimmer in his tone.

“Don’t you dare,” Matt warned.

“Why,” Foggy jabbed him in the side. “Afraid of what she’ll tell me?”

“Hey!” Matt jumped. “We’re at Jen’s concert, stop acting like a child!” the hushed reprimand was laced with laughter.

“Me? You’re the worst one between us,” Foggy whispered quickly. “You’re a permanent five-year-old when you’re moody.”

“Boys,” a light voice came from their right. “I didn’t realize you needed a baby sitter to sit between you.”

Matt’s face screwed up to the familiar voice and his fingers stretched out in its direction. “We’re being good, I swear.”

Jen peered down and giggled at Foggy’s ‘innocent’ face. “That’s what you’re going to call it? Wow.”  
“I came by to make sure you two were good before we headed out on stage. Fog, did you see the tree in the lobby with the purple lights?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll meet you two there and we can head out to dinner after. Stop bickering like an old, married couple. For God’s sake. Or I’ll beat you. Both of you,” she winked and headed to the side exit.

“Great. Now she thinks we’re a bunch of juveniles.”

Matt leaned back, a cocky grin on his face. “We’ve always been juveniles to her. That’s probably why she hangs out with us.”

“Speak for yourself, infant,” Foggy nestled down into his seat. “I’m an established, mature man.”

 

Gentle laughter and voices; good food and warmed, liquor-slicked bellies. Dinner had been a calm, quiet affair where the Musketeers reveled in their togetherness. Soft, dim light diffused across the room.

Jen relished this memory as it was writing itself: Foggy and Matt both looked handsome and more grownup with feint shadows etched onto their faces. Light sparkled in Nelson’s eyes and off of his best friend’s glasses while the pair sat comfortably, albeit a bit wolfish in nature.  
_Maybe. Maybe this is the first time where I can see it. Really see it. The lawyer that’s in them. Look at them. My boys._

Dinner finished and deserts ordered, Jen had grown quiet; lost in her thoughts to the point where she hadn’t realized that Foggy had got up from the table to use the restroom.

“You alright?” the warm baritone voice from across the table snaked into her ear.

“Of course,” she flashed a polite smile in an effort to try and audibly convey her intent. “Why, should I not be?”  
Murdock’s presence was palpable. Squared shoulders and an outstretched arm, his thumb brushing against the underside of his knuckles and his face placid.  
_He’s fishing for something._

“I felt your shoulder click when you came to hug Foggy and I after the concert. What happened?”

“I’m fine,” she waved off.

_Well, she’s not entirely wrong…  
_“Jen.”

“I wrenched it and it’s healing. No big deal.”

“You’re taking it easy at class, right?”

“Yes, dear,” she replied, sarcasm dripping from her words. “I’m not that stupid.”

“I was worried,” he quipped a little too quickly for his liking; a thin frown forming across his lips.

“Worried? Why? Did I give you reason to be worried?”

Matt wrung his hands in his lap and adjusted his tie. “Considering, I haven’t really seen you much lately. I thought I’d done something…that you were avoiding me.”

“I was for a while.”

“Oh.” He sensed her shrug and prodded, “Why?”

“Because I had to give you space. I had to give me space. Rule one.”

“What does rule one have to do with this?”

Jen leaned forward on her elbows and whispered, “Unless parameters have changed, we agreed to keep this casual. Anything more than that would need to be discussed.”

“So – so you think that because you got skittish that you can toss me out?”

“Watch your voice,” she warned.  
“For the record, you’re the one that bolted first. Shall we bring into evidence that you’re the one that left the apartment quick when you were getting comfortable?”

“Me? No. Don’t try to spin this on me, Jen. That’s not fair and far from the truth.”

“Stop,” she spied their friend across the restaurant. “It doesn’t matter. I thought things changed and I came to the realization that they hadn’t. So I put some space between us so that I could figure my shit out. We’re good, Matthew.”

“Wait a minute…”

“No. I said what I needed to say. I’m sorry if it made you upset, but that’s the truth of it. Foggy’s on his way over.”

_But I didn’t get to say what I needed to. What I should have said. That I’m sorry. That I shouldn’t have left… That I’m a moron. That you’re everything I need. That I think I’ve messed it up again. Damn it._

 

 

_January_

“Tell me again how you managed to get this huge apartment?” Foggy gawked, eyes trailing up the steps to the roof.

“Jen,” Matt chuffed. “She came in and pretended to be the buyer. Before the Battle, it was going for over six hundred thousand. Jen waltzes in and starts hard lining the real estate agent about how everything out here had been damaged and the housing market was in a slump. After twenty minutes, the price was suddenly two hundred and fifty thousand lighter.”

“Matt…that’s still a shit ton of money. How can you afford this?”

“Take a look outside.” His best friend walked over to the window and peered out at the large LCD screen on the building across the street. “Jen got another chunk taken off for the light. I ended up getting the place for two hundred twenty-five.”  
“The best part though, was when the realtor wanted Jen to sign and she called me over. I swear to God, the woman’s heart dropped.”

“You lucky dog,” Foggy teased. “Jen help you with the furniture, too?”

“We did that today, yeah. Some of it’s coming tomorrow; she’s got an air mattress I’m going to sleep on until my stuff shows up. Said she’d drop it off after work today.”

“So are you two good?”

“Yeah…why? She, uh, say something?”

“No,” his best friend walked around in a small circle. “I’m just tired of always trying to figure out if you two are good or not. You two were a little spatty yesterday.”

“Between you and me,” he paused, hands on his waist and sighed, “I – I think she’s been…uh…fighting again.”

“Mac got into a tournament last week,” he shrugged. “Nothing weird about that.”

“No, I’m talking about the underground stuff.”

“You think?”

“I don’t have any concrete proof, obviously…”

“Oh no. No, no, no, no; hell no. I am _not_ getting in the middle of that kind of argument with her. That’s on you, buddy.”

“You,” he threw his head back and laughed, “You scared of little, ol’ Jennifer MacDougall?”

“There is nothing little about that woman,” Foggy replied. “She’s two inches shorter than you, and an inch shorter than me, buddy. Her personality isn’t little. Her strength isn’t little. And you and I both know that she could whoop both of our asses blindfolded. I’m not _scared_ of her. I just know not to poke the bear. Respect the bear. And when the bear is grumpy, offer the bear snacks and rum.”

 

Swollen pink lips. Mop of messy, dark auburn hair. A stroke of  stubble on a strong jawline. Tongue sweeping over the bottom lip. Lines of shadow, defined muscle on his bare torso. The amalgamation of aftershave, perfume, and coffee lingering on the pillow cases. Hushed whispers from the steady rise and fall of his chest.  
“What?”

“Hmm?”

“I had the, um…distinct…feeling I was being stared at,” he murmured, his hand glided over her side: ribs, indentation of her waist and hip. Goosebumps prickled to meet his fingertips. A smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Really now,” Jen propped her head up on her fist. “Maybe I was looking around your apartment. And the whole lot of nothing that’s in it. Considering the mattress has a hole in it and it got tossed into the corner.”

“Good thing I brought all of these pillows and blankets earlier. Would have sucked to have sex on the floor.”

Jen snorted and buried her face into her pillow. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I mean…well…we did make it to the floor at one point,” his eyes travel upwards. “But the end game was here on this mass of pillows.”

“You must think I’m so easy to read, so easily manipulated into doing what you want.”

“Not at all,” he tucked strands of hair behind her ear. “You’ve only ever done what you wanted to do. Me or someone else, all in your own time. Plus everything else that you do, of course.”

Laughter, light and heartfelt, lingered in the air. Both of their voices rattled in the ceiling. A cascade of light filtered through each pane of glass, hues of every color cycling through a loop and creating an ethereal world within the confines of his apartment walls.

“You asked if I was staying and I told you that you’d have better odds if you prayed about it first. I didn’t expect you to legitimately get on your knees and pray to me about it.” Matt chuckled, gravel rattling in his throat.  
_That sound is something I’ll never tire of, I swear to Christ as my witness. Holy damn does it do things to me._

“Figured it was worth a shot,” he placed a tender kiss on her shoulder. “Worst thing you could have done was turn me down, especially after I said I was sorry for moving out of your apartment.”

“I can think of far worse things,” Jen replied, thoughtful. “All of them are fairly unpleasant and would probably terminate our friendship indefinitely.” Another chuckle.  
_Damn_.  
“How was work today?”

Matt’s shoulders scrunched together and he continued to use his fingers akin to a painter and his brushes, stroking colors upon her skin as if it were his canvas.  
“It wasn’t too bad; got to sit in on a – a case today and they had us take notes. Water cooler talk says that we’ll both be used more at meetings to get us used to the way L & Z does things.”

“That’s amazing,” she smiled. “See? I told you things would start looking up.”

“How was New Years?”

“Rather boring,” she admitted with a wave of her hand. “Going to London’s always been on my bucket list, but I didn’t have much time to enjoy the city because I was working. Glad to be home, if I’m honest.”

“Me too. You were missed.”

“I couldn’t tell,” Jen’s tone light. Eyes fixed to where her voice resonated, she knew he was attentive to every word.

“I have a question to ask you. I – I know you’re probably going to get mad.”

“Aw, Matt,” she groaned with a roll away from him. “No. No, no; why’d you have to go and ruin the evening? Couldn’t’ve waited until tomorrow when you didn’t have me in bed?”

“Come on, Jen. I know.”

“I’m sure that you do. My point still stands. Can’t this wait until tomorrow? You’re killing the mood.”

A heavy sigh escaped from his lips. “When did you start fighting again?”

“Matt…”

“A-and I’m not talking about the tournaments. I’m talking about the other stuff.” She growled, no doubt trying to figure a way to spin her recent activities in a manner that wouldn’t involve lying. “When?”

“Does it matter? You’re not going to approve and considering the evening we just had, I’m not in the mood to have one of your talks.”

“Jen.”

“Don’t,” she tossed over her shoulder, pulling her shirt over her head. “You know…you have a real knack for ruining nights like this.” A strong arm hooked around her middle and pulled. “Matt, enough.”

“Will you tell me why?”

She pouted, eyes closed, “Because I needed to feel.” There was an edge to her voice that made Murdock sit up.  
“Damn you, Matt Murdock. You – you make me feel…”

“Jennifer…”

“No. You listen. For once in your life; don’t just hear me. Listen.” Matt nodded and dropped his head.  
“You came for me. Even when I told you not to, you still came for me and – and then you stayed with me.” Facing him, she took a shaky breath to steady herself. “It doesn’t matter why…but I got used to you being around. Coming home, you’d be there. The door would open, you’d walk through. And – and…” Jen dug a finger in his chest. “You made me feel and when you aren’t around, it’s gone…”  
“I needed to fill the hole. I wanted to feel something and – and you aren’t always around. Rules, I get it. Be-be-because, Matt…”

A kiss. Slow, taking its time; a hand holding her face. Warming skin, flushed. Somersaults. Jen’s stomach was doing somersaults. His lips brush against hers, tender at first; but each kiss deepened. More urgent. Greedy. The stubble on his chin grated against hers.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry, Jen.” He can hear how her heart thuds erratically in her chest, her breath shallow; blood pumping through her veins. “I ruin everything; I know that. But will you have me? Right now?”

“Matt,” she groaned. Pads of her fingertips grazed down his chest.

“Don’t leave, please.” Another sigh, flutter of lashes, foreheads pressed together. “Please, Jen; stay. Here with me.”

“I won’t. I won’t; I won’t leave. Matt…please…” his thumb stroked her cheek. “I need to feel.”

 

_February; Thursday_

Bitter winds cut through the city. Everyone Nelson passed by was bundled in bulky coats, hands clutched to the fabric as if their very lives depended on it. A gust, an icy knife pierced his jacket just as he fobbed his way into Jen’s building.

The lobby always smelled clean and floral, whatever the facilities crew kept using was constant and it had come to be a smell that reminded him that his weekly therapy with Jen was soon at hand.  
Foggy made sure to tell her periodically that her weekly sessions did him a world of good; he got to vent about work and girlfriends. A knowing smile followed by simple words of understanding or advice always left a sense of peace in a city that was never truly calm.

“Hey, buttercup,” he announced, the bag of groceries placed on the counter. “I was thinking, since its so cold out, that we make some grilled pastrami or rueban sandwiches. I got everything we need for both.”

He pulled pans down, clanking them off the stove top and began prepping for dinner. “You know, weirdest thing happened today,” he rounded the counter. “Hey, Mac? Where’s your fancy chef knife?”

There was silence as a response. “Mac?” Inquisitive eyes look about and fall on her keys, wallet, and phone resting on the dining room table. “Mac? I’m not really one for hide and seek and you don’t have many places to hide…”  
“Mac,” he announced louder, carefully prying her bedroom door open, “I’m coming in. Look…Mac…”

_Oh my God._

“MAC! Mac, Mac, Mac …oh my God, please, please; please. Wake up!”

A sprawling mass of limbs, Jennifer MacDougall lay in a heap on her bedroom floor’ a trickle of crimson ebbed from her nose. Foggy dove to her side and called 911.

“Yes, I found my friend unconscious in her apartment…No…she’s breathing…it’s very shallow. I can’t really feel a pulse…Mac? God,” he cried, cradling her head. “Wake up! It’s okay, I’m here. No, I’m still here…the address is…”

 

_“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art though among women…”_

“Doctor,” Foggy jumped up and grabbed his elbow. “How is she?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t discuss…”

“We’re her family and next of kin. He and I,” he gestured over his shoulder to Matt, “have power of attorney and as her attorneys, I’d like to know what kind of state she’s in.”

The physician nodded and frowned. “Your names?”

“Franklin Nelson. Matthew Murdock.”

A grumble in the doctor’s throat as his eyes verified the information cut through the air. “She’s stable, but she’s going to need to stay here for a while to be under observation. As of right now, it appears she’s had a heart attack.”

_“…Holy Mary, Mother of God; pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.”_

“A heart attack?! But she was checked a few months ago. She – she’d been in an accident last year and had suffered trauma to her heart…but her doctors said that she was fine,” he bleated.

“Yes,” the doctor agreed and offered a hand in pause. “I read over her file. My best guess is that she had a more rare form of heart attack…one where the coronary artery spasms and restricts blood flow.”

“You guess?!”

“Look, there’s a lot we don’t know or understand about the human body. Her scans appear normal and there was minimal damage done to her heart. Hence why we need her to stay for observation.”  
“I’m going to ask you a personal question about her and I’m doing so because of some things we saw when we conducted our examination.”

“Things…?”

“To the best of your knowledge, is Jennifer in a physical relationship?”

Foggy’s brows shot upward, “Being a bit forward, aren’t you?”

“Mr. Nelson, there’s bruising on her torso that parallels injuries we see from battered victims. Seeing her x-rays, she’s got multiple healed hairline fractures, healed trauma to her pelvis…”

“No…no; it’s – it’s not like that. Mac is a fighter. Genuinely a fighter. Borderline MMA, if you know what I mean,” the blond divulged, hands moving quickly to emphasize his point. “She’s – she’s not dating anyone. Matt hasn’t said anything. He’s the one that she tells everything to about the men she’s seeing.”

“Hmm. When she wakes up, I’m going to advise that she take it easy for six months or so. It’s not impossible to hypothesize that her fighting and injuries are congruent to what may have set off the cardiac event. There’ll be a series of doctors coming in to check on her throughout her stay.”  
“Now, do you two have plans in place if…”

“No. No, don’t. Don’t even say it. She’s going to pull through.”

“She’s strong. I’ll give her that,” the doctor sighed. “Lucky for her, you showing up when you did because she could have been there on her floor for some time. Your friend over there,” he motioned with his clipboard. “He hasn’t moved in three hours. Is he alright?”

_“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee…”_

Foggy turned, a morose and heavy expression graced his best friend’s face. True, Matt hadn’t left her side since he arrived; but it was only recently that he had started praying. Nelson hadn’t heard Matt pray very often. Not openly, at least. From time to time he would go to church, Foggy surmised, if something was weighing on him.  
The fact that now, in this instance, he was so openly praying was troublesome and left an eeriness settling over his bones.

“God, I hope so.”

 

_It’s so faint. Her heart is trying so hard…but…the rolling thunder… Where did it go? Jesus, what are you doing? Praying over her? What good has praying ever done for you except leave you alone, huh? Don’t. Just don’t, Murdock. You’re embarrassing yourself and she wouldn’t want you praying for her; she’s expecting to go to hell for everything she’s done._

_But how can someone so wonderful…no, stop. You don’t do that. Not really. Not anymore. Not since…it doesn’t matter. That’s what she says. That my past, it doesn’t matter. What matters is what we take from it and who we are now… Jesus Christ. How’s she going to recover from this? Don’t. You. Dare. Don’t you do it…aaaand you did it. You caught feelings for her. She was right. …she’s always right._

_Why can’t you just tell her that you care for her so damn much? No. You’ve got to hold it in. Because the alternative is hard. This way, you can’t get hurt. You can’t have a connection, really, with anyone. You’re an embarrassment. Asshole. Piece of shit. And still, Jen reaches out for you? You don’t deserve her. Foggy’s got that right._

_Yeah, yeah; keep thinking you’re taking some moral high ground or righteous path. Who do you keep crawling back to when things get hard? Jen. Who sits and listens to you talk about how boring your day is and always gives you their full attention? Fights you on your bullshit? Jen. Cleans you up when you get hurt? The person you love hearing on the phone? Whose heart leaps and skips a beat when you walk into a room? Jen’s. Regardless if you’re banging her or someone else? Jen. Cares that you’re safe? Jen. In fact, just cares!? Jen._

_You’re smart, Murdock. And the biggest idiot on the face of the planet. She’s hurting and you’re having this existential crisis about her and how she fits into your life…real mature. Selfish bastard. The pain that goes with this… hmpf. Fog did say once that nothing hurts like a woman can and damn if that wasn’t summing Jennifer to a ‘T’._

_What am I supposed to do? I’ve got feelings for her. Sure. She does for me; it’s obvious…considering what I can sense. But – but…love? I don’t love her, do I? It’s not the same feeling I had with Elektra. Not even close. I loved her. Part of me still does. I told Jen that. She knows. Speaking of, how the hell does she know when I’m lying? I can’t figure that one out. I can hear her heart change speeds, her breathing fluctuates…how does she know…she doesn’t have any kind of abilities that I can feel. Jesus. Here you go again, making it all about you._

_Just hold her hand, you selfish bastard, and keep telling her that you’re here. Throw in a Hail Mary and an Our Father because…hell…if she’s going to go, might as well keep the doctrine up. Keep the faith._

_That’s not fair._

_She’d be here beside me if I were in this bed._

_She’d tell me to come back. That she needs me. That she’s afraid of being alone again. Afraid of the chasm that would swallow her whole. Sinking back into the pit. Turning into the person she fears she’d become. She’d tell me to fight. To live for her. That’s how she’d be selfish._

_Aw, damn it, Jennifer. You’re breaking my heart. Again. I can’t bear her being in pain, suffering. I can take a beating. I have. But I don’t think I ever told her how much it pains me, breaks me, when I know she’s hurt…when she’s fighting…when she’s injured and trying to hide it. It’s not that I owe Dom. Not anymore. I just want her to be safe. I want her to be okay, good; and everything that goes with it._

_She can’t love me. She can’t. That would break us both. How could she love enough for the both of us when she constantly despises the person she sees in the mirror? Yeah. I know about that. Jen’s come so far from who she was, but I can hear it, feel it: the disappointment when she peers into her reflection. She still sees him. Her nightmares have lessened, but there are nights when she doesn’t sleep. I know. Then she comes back to me and sleeps through the night. So do I. Christ._

_So what is it? Why don’t you shut up and stop talking to yourself and just tell her everything that was in your head? Oh, that’s right, because you’re scared. You’re afraid of nothing. Nothing terrifies you anymore. Nothing. Except letting that woman in. Because God forbid you be happy. Especially with someone that cares for you, needs you, celebrates who and what you are, calls you out on your dumbassery…whose laugh makes your heart skip a beat, whose tears shatter you, whose power intoxicates you; whose entire being brings balance to your life._

_You’re right. Why the hell would we want something like that? That? That’s for dreamers. For people who deserve happiness. Who deserve that light. I don’t deserve it. I can’t. But…what if I just fell for it anyway? Could she love us both and it be enough? Is she enough? Am I?_

_“Jen,” he whispered into her hand clasped between both of his palms. “Hon, please. Come back. Come back to me. You promised you wouldn’t leave me alone. Talking to you in the space between dreams, I – I hope…that you hear me…and know all of those things I’ve ever said to you in the quiet…that they’re true.”_  
_Matt’s voice broke and he pressed her hand to his forehead, “I need you more than I’ll ever admit. I choose you. D’you hear me? Every time. I’ll choose you. I’ll come back to you and – and if that means anything…you’ll wake up and come back to me.”_

_The whirring of medical equipment. Forced oxygen hissing out of it’s tubing. Steady rise and fall of her chest. Sterility. Disinfectant. Under all of that was the smell of a bouquet of flowers that he’d had delivered sat on the window sill. It was odd, but her mother had her study the meanings behind flowers and plants for some reason as a child. She’d see them and know. The florist thought he was insane, but arranged the blooms anyway:_  
_Clovenlip toadflax in reddish purple, rainflower, rush daffodils, purple blooms of foxglove and white gardenias._

_She’ll know._

“Jen. I’m here. I’ve got you. Come back to me. Please.”

 

_Saturday_

Eyes slits, Jen peeks about at her surroundings. _A hospital? Now what? You’ve got to be shitting me. Oh Jesus, look at Foggy. He looks like he got hit by a train. Oh Jesus fuck…I feel like shit._

“Hey, stranger,” she rasped. “Why the long face?”

“Oh my God,” Foggy leaps forward, tears in his eyes. “You’re awake. Take it easy.”

“Hmm,” she hummed with a slow nod. “I’m not going to argue with you on that. What happened? I pass out or something?”

“Uh…or something is closer to the truth of it. But, before we get into that, I – I need you to know that I love you and can’t believe you’ve been so stupid lately.”

A dark laugh rumbled in her belly, her hands flopped down in surrender. “You have me at a bit of a disadvantage, but okay. What I do now?”

“The fighting, Mac!” his whisper harsh. “You could have died!”

Jen rolled her eyes and pushed herself up in bed. “Right, but I still have a magnificent streak at my tournaments…”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” he snapped. “You’ve been fighting again! Why? The underground stuff isn’t good for you. That?! That’s what landed you in here!”

“Why,” reality crashed down on her, eyes wide. “What the hell happened?”

“I found you on the floor of your bedroom, Mac,” he wiped a stray tear from his face. “You had a minor heart attack because of some hit you took to the chest. You idiot!”

“Berating me isn’t going to help,” she placated. “Christ. You have really great bedside manner, Fog. Where’s Matt?”

“He went into the firm today because one of us needs to be working on the case file we got handed this week since you landed your ass in the hospital. Again,” Foggy retorted. Hands on his waist and eyes stern, Foggy did his best to try and assert some sort of brotherly authority over her. Too bad he knew she wasn’t having any of it.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” she seethed. “Did me landing in the hospital last time ruin your New Year’s? Or – or how about the time I made it to the hospital after I had been drugged? Did that skew some plans?”

“Mac, I’m sorry; it’s just…I hate seeing you like this…”

“No, Foggy. No. Get the hell out of my room. I’m such a burden to you both, get the hell out! Go!” her eyes ablaze and voice roaring. “I can take care of myself! Get the fuck out!”

Alert. Her heart monitor was ringing and nurses promptly busted through the door. “What’s going on?!” one of the screeched.

“GET OUT, FOGGY!” Jen bellowed.

“Sir,” one of the nurses placed a hand on his elbow. “You need to leave.”

“But she…”

“Now!”

Ushered out of the room, Foggy hung his head and sighed. “Damn it, Nelson. You moron. She’s your sister and you’ve messed up. Way to go. Damn it.” Dejected, the blond headed toward the elevator and called his best friend when he made it out of the lobby.

“ _Something happen? Is she okay?”_

“I messed up, buddy. Pushed a little too hard on the fighting thing. She’s pissed. Doesn’t want us around.”

“…”

“I know. I know. You said don’t bring it up and you’d handle it; but – but Matt, it hasn’t been handled. In the years we’ve known her, she keeps going back and we don’t know why…”

“ _I know why now, man. That’s why I was going to talk to her about it. Al-alright. I’ll go to the hospital after I finish up here. You go to her apartment and make sure everything’s good for when she get’s released. Alright? She’s mad but she doesn’t hate you.”_

“I dunno, buddy. You should have heard her…”

_“I can imagine. Really, I can. I’ve been on the backend of her temper a bunch of times and it stings like a son of a bitch, but she’s never said that she’s hated me. Not once in all the fights we’ve had. Think…think about it from her perspective, man: she woke up in a hospital again with no true recollection of how she got there, I’m guessing…and you started by lighting into her about her underground fighting. How did you not think she was going to get defensive over it?”_

“Because I’m her sibling?” he offered, the pitch of his voice going up.

_“That’s the best reason for her to get defensive over it. Say what you want about the relationship that she and I have, sometimes I envy what the two of you got…you both have siblings and bonded over that. I never had any and can only fathom what that’s like. Be cool, man. She’ll come around.”_

 

“Excuse me, nurse,” her voice weak.

“Yes?”

“Those flowers on the window…is there a card that says who they’re from?”

“Oh, there was, but we all know who ordered them for you. The guy you kicked out of here? He kept telling us that your blind friend picked it out and was jabbing him because the arrangement isn’t overly pretty.” The nurse chuckled. “Me and the guys all kept saying how nice it was.”

The nurse checked her fluids, monitors, and linens before filling out her chart. He had a kind face and reminded her of someone from college. “Thank you. I kinda like how bizarre it is.”

“See? That’s what I’m saying. My girlfriend would love these white flowers. Don’t know what they are.”

“That’s rainflower. It’s a good choice. They aren’t overly expensive either.”

He snorted and hung her chart at the foot of her bed. “You a florist?”

“Nah,” she waved off. “Just know a bit about flowers. Studied them when I was a kid.”

“That’s cool. You know, you’re a pretty chill lady.”

“I get that sometimes. And then I land myself in the hospital and the wonder twins both remind me that I need to chill out. Win some, you lose some.”

“Look,” he stood beside her bed. “It’s not my place, but the guy you were yelling at today…he and the other dude that’s been coming here have been here round the clock. One of them. All the time. Always watching over you like they’re your personal body guards or somethin’. Take it easy on ‘em, alright? They haven’t really slept in two days and they’ve been worried about you.”

Jen looked down and swallowed. “Thanks, Deshaun. I appreciate it.”

“You got it. I’ll be back one more time before I go home for the night. You stay outta trouble.”

“I’ll do my best…hey, was there someone in my room earlier?”

“A couple of the doctors came in to check on you and go over your chart,” he nodded. “You’re a bit of a cardiac celebrity right now.”

“Hmm. My head’s hurting. Is that normal?”

“Could be a reaction to the medication you’re on. I’ll consult with the head nurse and we’ll see what we can do for you, okay?”

“Thank you.”

 

Being alone in the hospital room meant one of two things: sleeping or being lost in her thoughts. Neither of those actions were high on her priority list; she wanted to work. Tia had already swung by the hospital with a signed card from the office. She informed her that Duquesne was flying down tomorrow to see her and to assume temporary control of New York while she recovered. More sleep. Deshaun stopped in to check on her and say goodnight. Sleep. Waking to think about how she got herself into this mess and it was genuinely her fault. Sleep.

When she floated up towards lucidity, Matt was sat beside her, her hand in his, and there were murmured words on his lips.  
“Hey,” she croaked.

Matt stilled. “I didn’t know if you’d wake up tonight or not.”

“Were you praying?”  
Matt stilled, knit his brows together and bent his head down in admission. Not wanting to press, she changed the subject, “What time is it?” she yawned.

“Close to one,” voice velvet and eyes weary. “They don’t really bother a blindman that can’t see out your window or the clock on the wall.”

“I’m sorry,” she lamented.

“I know.”

“I swear, I was finishing up this circuit and then I was going to be done for a while. I just – it was a rematch against the guy I lost to back in December, you know? I wanted to even the score out…”

“Jen, you don’t have to justify things to me anymore. I get it. It’s a part of who you are. I – I just want you to be careful, okay? I…uh…I want you to make it home from wherever you are every night.”

“That’s sweet of you,” her voice hoarse. “So were the flowers.”

“Uh…yeah – yeah, I…thought you might like them.”

“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think that a blind man haphazardly picked a random bouquet of flowers.”

He held his breath, thumb brushing over her knuckles. “If you didn’t know me better…”

Jen cleared her throat and closed her eyes. “Toadflax asks the recipient to notice the feelings from the sender, the daffodil things can mean I’m supposed to return those feelings in kind, the gardenias symbolize a secret kind of love and foxglove is for insecurity.”

“You forgot…”

“The rainflower’s a tossup,” she snorted. “It can mean that one loves the recipient back or that they must atone for their sins. Either is applicable.”

“Jen,” he faltered. “You nearly died. Had Foggy not found you…not come over for dinner…and I was at the office…Jen…”

“I’m right here,” she affirmed, lethargy creeping back into her voice. “I’m not going anywhere. Not yet at least. Someone’s got to look out for you and tell you when you’re being ridiculous.” Matt’s snort brought a faint grin to her face. Jen ran her tongue over her lip before gently taking her bottom lip between her teeth. “Matt?”

“Hmm?”

“I promised.”

“What’s that?”

“That I wouldn’t leave you alone. It’s going to take more than a minor heart attack to get rid of me.”

A furrowed brow and cocked head, Matt leaned forward, “I mean…”

Jen cracked an eye open and smirked, “I heard you. I’ve always heard you. You know? When you talk to me in my sleep. I just wasn’t ever sure if I was making it up or you were actually there. Dreams are funny that way, I guess.”  
Redness creeped into his cheeks and he bent his head. “Hey…” his head picked up. “If it’s all the same, I talk to you in your sleep sometimes. If you weren’t dead asleep, you’d know I was saying ‘Me, too’.”  
“Will you stay?”

The corner of his mouth ticked upward, the flash of a smile faded before he focused on his task at hand. “Yeah. Yeah, Jen. I’m where I need to be. Right here. With you.”

 

_The Following Week_

“Welcome home!” the boys announced as Jen’s front door swung open. A large, perfectly wrapped box sat in the middle of where her coffee table usually resided. The green paper glinted in the morning light and Jen furrowed her brow.

“What is this?” Jen crossed her threshold and dropped off her keys and medication. “Theo? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Had to help doofus bring the box up,” he admitted, his phone lens focused on her. “Murdock wasn’t much help.”

“Hey,” Matt defended. “I found the box. That counts. A-a-and it was a joint idea for the present.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Theo rolled his eyes. “Welcome home, Mac. I hear you started giving the doctors hell after two days.”

“Just the one that kept ordering me to get stuck with needles,” she slumped into her kitchen chair. “Christ. I’m so tired already. I can’t wait for this,” she gestured to herself, “to get back to work.”

“When did the doctor say you could go back to work?” Foggy asked, eyeing the box.

Jen rolled her eyes and heaved to, meandering to the couch behind the giant gift. “He said after next week, so long as I take it slow. Duquesne told me to take the whole month off. His orders.”

“Well, that’ll be good. I mean…you’ll – you’ll be bored, but we’ll come around after work and torment you,” Matt teased. “So. You ready?”

“I dunno,” she eyed them suspiciously. “The three of you all working together is a seriously scary notion.”

“I’ll have you know, this is the brain child of Nelson and Murdock, Theo was here as muscle,” Foggy chuffed. “We wanted to get you something that we knew you wanted and needed. So don’t be mad.”

“If this is a vacuum, I’m going to beat you,” Jen snorted. A gentle sigh escaped her lips and her hands pressed onto the outside of the box. “It’s a big lid?”

“Yep,” the brothers beamed. “Just lift. It’s not too heavy, we checked. But don’t yank it off either,” Foggy warned. “That could be bad.”

_Her heart’s beating so steadily. She must be concentrating._  
“It’s nothing bad, Jen. I promise. Alright?”

Intrigued, Jen lifted the lid up and heard a small squawk from underneath and dropped the lid back down. “What…did…you…” she looked up at Foggy who was smiling from ear to ear.

Tentative, Jen slid down from the cushion onto the floor and lifted the lid again, ears straining to perceive any sound from beneath. Another chirp of sorts, and Jen realized what lay beneath. Flipping the last of the box over to reveal her prize.

“No,” she gasped, hands reaching for the bundle of gray.

“He’s four months old,” Foggy divulged as Jen cradled her gift in her lap. “We were going to wait for your birthday, but we figured that now was as good a time as any.”

“You guys,” her voice cracked.  
_Gangly legs. Huge feets. White on the knuckles. Gray hair; black splatter-splotches. White on his snout and chest. Eyes the color of amber in sunlight. They did it. They got me what I wanted: they got me a dog._

Matt slid onto the floor with her. “You – you always said that you wanted a Dane…and we’ve been working with a breeder for a while. We had it set up for your birthday but…like Foggy said, we, uh…we thought that this would be better…because we both know how much you love dogs. You’re like an ADD squirrel when we’re out walking and a dog comes by.”

“Four months?” she asked, smile wide and tears in her eyes.

“Yeah. The breeder trains them on basic commands and whatnot, so he knows some. I can teach you what he knows. But he knows not to pull with _heel_ …and _sit, stay…speak..._ ”

“Rarf!” the little voice yipped, butt squarely sat between Jen’s legs.

“See? He’s a natural.”

_She’s happy. This was good. This is what she needed. And – and I’m happy that she’s happy. Is…is that transferrable? Because right now, it is._  
“We’re going to take turns checking in on you and taking the dog out until your doctors say you’re good to go next week.”

“Yeah,” voice dreamy, she kept petting her new dog. “But wait…” she frowned. “He’s, max, sixty pounds or so and leash trained. How…how did you need Theo to get the dog up here.”

Matt chuckled. “Foggy had the dog and the bed. Theo had the food and the puppy pads. I had the toys and the keys. It was a joint effort to get him up here.”

Jen lay down on the floor and pulled her puppy close to her chest. The pup gave a small yawn and nuzzled himself into her side, happily content to go back to sleep next to his master.

“What are you going to name him?” Foggy queried, pulling the basket of toys and bed into view.

“Murph,” her voice soft. “He’s my Murph.”

 

Collectively, the boys made dinner and destroyed her kitchen. That didn’t matter. She had a puppy. Since she’d met Matt and Foggy, she told them about the dogs she had growing up and how badly she wanted to have another one now that she was on her own. But now…now she had one and he was perfect; and a slug on toothpick legs.

The Nelson brothers had left not long ago with promises to upload her reaction video to the internet and to visit soon while she recovered. Matt had just finished the last of the dishes and made his way to the couch. Jen was stretched across it, a puppy on her belly snoring softly.

“Your medication’s in different sized bottles. What does the dosage say?”

Jen peered up and squinted at the labels. “One in your left is one pill twice a day. I’ve been doing them with lunch and dinner. The right is two capsules every eight hours.”

“Got it. And what are you getting now?”

“Dinner is a dose of each. Hang on,” she shifted awkwardly to sit up. “I can reach my water if you’ll plop those in my mouth.”

“You could just let go of the dog,” he teased but did as she asked.

“Nuh I coul’uhnt,” she grumbled before sipping her water. “He’s asleep! Can’t you hear him snoring?” Jen patted Matt’s leg and he sat down, her head resting in his lap.

“No, no; I can hear him. I’m just saying that you’ve got a puppy that can weigh over a hundred pounds when he’s grown getting used to being in your lap rather early.”

“Don’t be jealous,” her voice rough.

“Ouch,” the pads of his fingers brushed across her forehead and through her hair. “I’ve been replaced by a dog.”

“You two have very separate places in my heart,” she asserted, eyes closing.  “You both can do things the other can’t.”

“Oh? I suppose that’s good.”

“He follows commands and you don’t,” Jen chuckled.

“He slobbers just like his owner.”

“Ooh,” she feigned being hurt. “Touché.”

“Happy?”

“Very,” she hummed.

Matt could hear her tiredness. It was apparent in her voice, but now it was seeping into her heart, her breath, and her skin was growing cool.  
_Tell her. Something. Anything. Let her know. Keep her here. Don’t let her go. Come on, you chicken._  
“Jen?”

“Hmm?”

“You, uh…know that…I, uh…care for you, right?”

An eye cracked open and looked up wryly at him. “Yes. I do.”

“Okay. Good.” Murph stirred and flopped off the couch before wobbling his way to his pillow in the corner of the room. Matt could hear him padding around on the floor before nestling down into his bed. The creature had a full belly and was quickly asleep.

A quiet voice interrupted his thoughts, “You know that I care for you too, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m serious,” her voice carried an edge to it. “I do. You’re my favorite person in the entirety of the world. What I would do to ensure your life, liberty and happiness…”

“I don’t thing you’re going to be doing much of anything for a while,” he chuckled. “At least not until you’ve healed more.”

“It goes without saying,” she reached up and mussed his hair. “I care about you.”

“I know you do, Jen.”

“Are you staying tonight?”

“If you’ll have me.”

 

Limbs hooked about his middle and a head rested on his chest. One of her legs draped across his and created a small crater in the blankets that allowed Murph nestle into a deep sleep.

They had talked for a short while before heading to bed. About Landman and Zack, about Taula; about the mundane and the important. It took time for her to finally be comfortable in her own bed but once she had maneuvered enough, Jen was sound asleep.

Matt had turned off Jen’s phone and set a quiet alarm to go off when she needed her next dose of medication that he’d be able to hear before she would. Murph rolled over in his sleep, paws dangling above his body, and wriggled closer to Matt’s leg.

It was quieter at Jen’s than at his place. She’d taken the time to install noise-reducing drywall and was able to find better windows in the time she’d had her apartment. This didn’t mean that his ear didn’t venture down a floor or two and listen when he would wake up early; however, he found that he was fully capable of a better night’s sleep when he was here.

_I wonder if she did that for me? What are you talking about, that’s insane. You know that she did it for herself. But you know that she listens, hears what you say; takes those things and molds her life to them. How’s that fair? Why do you let her do that? Change her life for you…why don’t you ever say anything?  
Oh yes. Because you’re selfish._

_Because as long as you let her know that you care, that you need her…she’ll make herself available. That’s not fair._

_Stop it. You’re over thinking all of this. Like always. You’re being a moron and trying to find reasons to keep away. Just stop and think for a minute. Jen’s in your arms. Murph’s sound asleep against your leg. What’s wrong with all of this?_

_Just…just for a few moments…can you just enjoy this? How this makes you feel? Warm. Safe. Strong. Sure of everything. Now tell her. Come on, loser…._

“Shh,” Jen stretched against him, voice a whisper. “You’re thinking too loud.”

Matt skimmed his fingertips along her arm. “Terribly sorry, I’ll think quieter in the future.”

“What were you thinking about?”

The corner of his mouth turned in and his chest heaved under her chin. “Growing up. Figuring out what I want in life.”

“Finally going to grow up? That’s the worst.”

“Well,” he snorted, “it had to happen sometime.”

She yawned and lifted herself up, “And what’s spurred those loud thoughts at this hour of the night?”

“You.”

“Me?” a lift in her voice. “What did I do?”

“Do – do you remember when we went out for dinner after your concert?”

“Uh huh.”

“You said that you’d thought things had changed and then when I got that studio, things hadn’t…Jen…look…I’m awful at trying to figure out what it is I want but…you were right. As usual. Things did change. I think I was happy and – and then…”

“You felt like you needed to run.”

Matt turned on his side to face her. His voice grew quieter, “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

“Matt, I get it…”

“No, please…let…le me do this. You compromise for me all of the time. My time, my job, my moodiness...I’m tired of you always being the one to compromise. I want you to be happy and safe and – and content. You having this heart attack…it’s – it’s giving me perspective and I’m sorry it took so long for me to get with the program.”  
“Things did change after the Battle for New York. I was worried that you weren’t safe and that I’d never see you again and I couldn’t live with that. So – so when, uh, I was living here…everything was great. But I kept waiting for the other show to drop and when it didn’t…I felt like I had to leave before it did.”

Even in the dark, Jen could decipher the shadows on his face and knew he was uncomfortable. “Okay. It’s okay.”

“It’s not. Jen…things did change and – and I want that back; be-because I want…you.”

“Why – why would you… Me?” her voice caught in her throat.

“Of course you. Always you. You – you’ve been the most constant person in my life for five years…”

“Except for Foggy,” she teased.

“I’m not sleeping with Foggy,” he replied, lips pressed into a firm line. “He’s my best friend…but I had to draw a line somewhere.”

Jen’s laugh caused Murph to stir. “That’s a relief.”

“What I’m saying, Jen…is…I guess…”

“Okay.”

“What?”

Fingers stretched out and brushed hair out of his eyes, “If you’re asking to change this…what we’ve got…it’s okay. We can try.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Matt smiled and pressed his lips to the palm of her hand. “Miss MacDougall, can I take you out to dinner this week?”

“I think I can manage that with my current schedule,” she rolled over and wedged her back against his chest. Jen patted the bed in front of her and Murph lumbered over to the new spot and flopped over. Matt and Jen both stretched their legs out.

Matt nestled his face into her hair and inhaled deeply. “You’re going to be trouble.”

“Going to be?” she scoffed. “Oh, darling, I’ve been trouble for a while. It’s part of the charm you seem drawn to.”

“That’s right,” his fingers entwined with hers. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Number one in your class at Columbia and sooner or later, Landman and Zack is going to promote you…typical idiot.”

“But now I’m your idiot.”

“Matt,” she sighed, “you’ve been my idiot for a while.”


	29. Lumen de lumine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're all lovely and I'm sorry it took so long and I love my new job and I work a bazillion hours and I love you and I love you.
> 
> -A

_June_

Now a part of her running regimen, Jen made a course that frequented various places around Hell’s Kitchen that she had grown fond of: Fogwell’s, Matt’s apartment, her favorite Thai place, Saint Agnes and Clinton Church. It was a nice little circuit and always left some place safe for her to run to in the event she needed it.

Today, however, was different. Usually, the church was her third stop; now it was the last.

The church was dark save for the sunlight cascading through the stained glass. The priest was up ahead speaking to a few parishioners when she snuck into a pew and basked in the reverent silence. Jen felt eyes seek her out, but she ignored them and continued her ritual.

“It’s been some time since I’ve seen you in here,” a woman’s voice broke the silence.

Eyes bolting open, Jen found a familiar nun standing before her, hands clasped in front of her skirt.  
“Sister Maggie?”

“I hear that you’ve given a job to one of our children from the orphanage.”

“Tatum, yes, ma’am,” she nodded, her heart settling a little from the start. “I’ve kept tabs on her since I met her years ago…she’s eighteen now compared to the wiry teenager-kid I met years ago. She interviewed and got a job in the office.”

“How’s your sign?” Maggie’s head bowed knowingly.

Jen smirked and signed back, “ _Better. I made sure to start taking classes so that I could speak with her and others.”_

Sister Maggie flashed a quick smirk and cleared her throat. “What brings you here today?”

“Solace and forgiveness.”

Maggie peered about and gestured to the numerous empty pews. “You picked a fine time to come for those things when no one is around to help you manage it.”

“Thank you,” she huffed and rolled her eyes, “but this is the kind where I need to be alone to obtain it.”

“Do your friends not help you in these matters, as well? People like Murdock?”

“Matt? Of course he does. I’ll be seeing him shortly…ah. You remembered.”

“Of course I remembered. I’m a nun. It’s part of the job. Especially when an ornery and stubborn man like that brings someone to the orphanage for the first time. Matthew didn’t make a habit of bringing people with him when he did come around as an adult. You could say that you made enough of an impression.”  
“But now you sit here, in this church of all churches, because…”

A heavy sigh sailed past Jen’s lips and her shoulders caved forward. “You’ll think I’m insane.”

“I doubt it,” Maggie took a seat in front of Jen and waited.

“Every week…every single week without fail, unless I’m in the hospital or out of the country…I spend a portion of my Thursdays at St. Patrick’s Old Cathedral. The reason is mine and private.” Maggie nodded. “But I go because I do it partly in memory of someone I’ve lost. To give me routine. To reflect.”  
“But today’s harder. I don’t know why it’s this day out of all of the days it could have been. But it is.”

“I see.”

“I come here because there’s a strength in the bones of this church and its people. Matt grew up here. He’s the strongest and most resilient person that I know. Matt’s everything that I wish I could be and what I think is good in this world. And – and his dad was a parishioner here….back in the day.” Tears welled in her eyes and her voice cracked, “Battlin’ Jack Murdock…and – and he raised Matt, too…so – so maybe…maybe the strength this place has imbued on the people that come here would be passed to me, too.”  
“So that I can keep going for another year. Keep pushing. To try. To get better. To be stronger and to heal.”

Maggie stood, straightened her skirt and genuflected at the pew’s end. “My dear girl,” her voice hushed, but firm. “I think you’ll find what you seek here. These walls hold the secrets of those that have sought redemption and solace. If you give up what it is that troubles you to God it can lift a weight from your soul.”

Jen sighed sharply and looked to the altar. “Matt’s said things like that to me.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Sometimes. And then, there’s the other times…”

Maggie cocked her head and raised a quizzical brow. “The other times?”

“For the sake of the conversation, Sister, I didn’t have a great upbringing either. With that knowledge, I feel that our mutual darkness brings us together at times. That – that the muck and mire that we’ve had to trudge through…it’s still there…and – and the only person that we know that _knows_ what that feels like…”  
“Those days, when it’s dark for him…he’s lying. Matt wants to believe but, on those days I think it’s doctrine that pushes him on rather than his beliefs.”

“That’s who you decide to pal around with? Someone that you believe lies to you?”

“No, not for that reason,” her brow furrowed and Jen frowned. “Matthew Murdock is kind and fair, smart…he’s strong and wants the world to be a better place. How could I not have been drawn to him for that? He’s wonderful.”

“I see.” The corner of Maggie’s mouth twitched. “Wonderful enough to love him?”

Her palms rubbed together and Jen’s eyes fell to her feet. “Maybe.”

 “You are too good for him.”

“No, Sister,” Jen wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. “It’s quite the opposite; he’s too good for me.”

 

_September_

_Thursday_

“What do you mean he’s not happy?”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Jen slurped up her spaghetti noodles. “Matt’s miserable. Something’s been bothering him lately and he’s not opening up about it. Is there something up at the office?”

Puzzled, Foggy did his best to quickly recall anything that had been potentially heavy at the office. Frowning, he shook his head and leaned on the table, “Not that I can think of, but maybe it’s his new girlfriend.”

“Matt’s got a new girlfriend?” she asked doing her best to look innocent.

“I think so. He keeps saying that he’s not seeing anyone…but I’ve known the guy for a long time…Matt’s been different for the past few months. Trouble in paradise?”

“I think Matt would have told me about it if there were,” she shrugged and went back to eating her dinner.

“In any case, outside of the girlfriend that he claims isn’t, I haven’t noticed anything off about him. You, however, are a different story.” His eyes glinted with mischief. “Who’s got you under their finger?”  
Jen stared back at him blankly. “Come on. I know what you’re like when you’ve got a guy around. Some of those tendencies are showing.”

“You know, Nelson,” she pointed her fork at him, “I’m going to cancel family dinner Thursdays if you keep this up. First you think it’s Matt. Now you think it’s me. Maybe… _maybe_ …it’s you!”

“Me?!”

“Yeah! Why don’t you tell me about the receptionist that you fall over when you walk in. Matt seems to think you’re rather smitten.”

"Touché,” Foggy ceded. “Point taken. Hey, I’m a lover not a fighter.”

“Uh huh. Does she know your name yet? Or do you stammer all over yourself, her beauty rendering you speechless?”

“Murdock…”

“That’s right, dear. Murdock told me _all_ about it.”

“Alright, alright, I give up. How was she today?”

 

_Saturday_

“Hey,” Matt called as Jen’s footsteps reverberated through his floor. “How was your day?”

Groceries deposited on the counter, Jen walked over and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Not too bad. The Gala’s coming up in a month; I’ve been dealing with the last bit of that, to be fair. Duquesne’s happy and so is my staff.”

Matt pulled the pan from the stove and set it aside, dinner finished. “Everything going alright with that?”

“Oh, yeah,” she stole a piece of carrot from the pan and popped it into her mouth. “If you aren’t working, you’re more than welcome to come again this year; like always.”

“I don’t think you wanted me to come the one year, to be fair.”

“Psh,” she scoffed. “That was different. Anyway; some of your bosses might be in attendance this year. Somehow one of the attendees has managed to score some extra tickets and invited the upper-ups of L and Z.”

Matt’s mouth turned into a surprised frown and he nodded. “Huh. They’ve not been on your list before, have they?”

“No,” Jen put a piece of the chicken he’d cooked in his mouth. “But Duquesne’s not entirely surprised. They’ve been trying to get an invite for a while. He’s just not a fan of the morality your bosses like to use.”

“Me either, if I’m honest,” Matt’s tone changed. “But I have to follow the law.”

“Shame you can’t automatically know the difference between the genuinely innocent and the genuinely guilty.”

Matt cocked his head to the side. “In a perfect world.”  
“Now…can you imagine…how fortuitous it could be for me, a lowly intern looking to rise up and make partner, to be seen on the arm of the most stunning and powerful woman of the evening?”

“Stunning? How would you know? You’re blind,” she snorted loudly and covered her mouth in humored horror.

“Oh. Right. Well, damn it. I forgot. Guess I have to trust you aren’t ugly as sin.”  
_That laugh. So light. And now it’s for me.  
_ “And your meeting? You seemed worried about it this morning; did that go okay?”

“Easy. Secured some investors and additional charities that Duquesne Enterprises can donate to. Made sure that my board still realizes I’m the boss.”

“How’d you do that? Assert your dominance?”

“Damn right. I’ve been doing a damn fine job despite my absences. Dare someone to come and take my position from me. See what happens.”

An arm wrapped about her and pulled her flush against his chest. “I would expect nothing less, not that I could see it.” His hands roamed at her waist. “The pencil skirt. You were feeling powerful today, weren’t you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” she feigned innocence.

“I seem to recall falling prey to this skirt a few times. Now, for your evening…” he kissed her neck.

“Yes?” her smile broadened..

“Some drinks. Dinner…”

“I’m liking this so far.”

“Finally, some desert afterwards.”

“That was nearly a perfect time,” she teased. “Might I inquire what’s prompted all of this, not that I’m complaining.”

“Seven months.”

“What about seven months?”

“Seven months since you came home from the hospital and we decided we’d give this a try.”

Jen rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “You realize that a six-month thing is a tad more conventional.”

“Well, yeah. What part of this,” he pointed between them, “has been conventional?”

“Point taken.”

Matt shrugged, “Besides, I felt like you needed this today. Plus there’s more planned for the evening.”

“More?”

“Oh. Yes. I forgot to mention: There’s sex laced throughout the evening.”

“Sex?” she yawned. “Is that all?”

A flash of a devilish smile gleamed back at her. “Your body’s been talking to me the minute you walked into my apartment. Don’t even try to deny that sex wasn’t on your brain today, especially after I called you at lunch.”

“I mean,” her teeth nipped at his chin and he groaned. “The man I’ve been spending most of my nights with is pretty good in bed.”

“Must some lucky bastard.”

“He is. I remind him of that from time to time when he seems forgetful.” Matt’s dark laugh sent a shiver down her spine.   
_You like it._  
“Well, Mr. Murdock? What are you going to do about it?”

“I’ll not keep a lady waiting.”

 

Head heavy and tilted backward onto Jen’s shoulder, Matt blinked lazily as her thumbs kneaded slow circles into the base of his neck. An amalgamation of soap, perfume, and musk filled his nose.  The rhythmic rise and fall of her chest against his back and her legs were silk under his fingers while they lounged on the bed:  it was sensory bliss and he was happily drowning in it.

“Penny for your thoughts,” she whispered against the shell of his ear.

“Thoughts?” he chuckled. “It’s hard to have those when you’re doing what you’re doing at the moment.”  
_Oh. She liked that._

“Well, you were good in bed,” she shrugged, her thumbs moved to muscle between his shoulder blades. “ _And_ dinner was fantastic.”

“What? You didn’t like dessert?” his tone aghast.

Jen chuckled and sighed, “I didn’t get to have any. As I seem to recall, you ate yours off my stomach when we made it to the couch.”

“It’s all a blur,” he lied with a smirk. “You’re a dervish when you get lust-crazed.”

“Oh, hon,” Jen teased, resuming her work on his back and nipping at his neck. “If you think that was just lust, do I have a rude awakening for you in the near future.”

He hummed in response. “What kind of rude awakening did you have in mind?”

“Deviancy, mostly. Perhaps a sprinkling of the lingerie you seem to like.”

“Is there a way I can have that without the rude awakening anyway?”

“I’ll see what I can pencil into my schedule.”  
“Oh, did I tell you that my office couch showed up today?” He shook his head, locks of dark auburn brushing against her neck. “I’m prepared for the long nights after the gala now.”

“Remind me why the woman I share my bed with isn’t going to be in it for some time?”

“Tahiti; construction finishes in a few weeks. _The Grey Lion_ has been moving along well in London and he’s had an eye on Tahiti for some time. I know Duquesne’s worked with the locals to create an establishment that is authentical Tahitian so that it fits seamlessly into the island.”

“Won’t that go against the grain of being a Duquesne property?”

“I may have done a little convincing, but I think it has the potential to be a decent venue and, I mean, I’ll have to go visit it eventually.”

“I guess that means that you spending your time here in this humble hovel and slumming it with my company isn’t as good as an all-star trip to Tahiti.” Soft lips pressed into the crook of his neck and he felt her smile against his skin. “How do you manage to put up with all of this?”

“It’s a strain, but I manage.” Jen placed a kiss behind his ear. “You could come with me, you know; if you wanted.”

“I’ve never left New York,” his voice heavy.

“That’s okay,” she nodded. “I know that this is home and safe.”

“Well, safe’s a relative term,” he smirked. “But still…”

“I’m not going to pressure you or guilt you into going,” she wrapped her arms over his shoulders and crossed them upon his chest. “If you do want to go, you can come with me. I’d only pick on you a little bit when we’d be on the beach.”

“There aren’t many people that I’d be willing to leave this city for, but you make a very tempting argument, Miss MacDougall.”

“Thank you, Counselor. I’m learning from the best.”  
“We should probably tell Foggy soon if we’re going to keep _not dating_.”

_Her heart’s beating a little faster and her face is getting warm._ “Look, not to be superstitious, but every relationship that I’ve had since knowing him and he knows about…they – they don’t work out.”

“He’s going to be mad at us both as is if he finds out for certain,” her fingers raked against his skull, carding through his hair. “I would prefer to not have him mad at either one of us.”

“Hmpf,” he snorted. They sat together in comfortable silence for a while; Matt relished in the calm that was blanketing him. The numbness of sleep crept into his fingers, toes, and lips.

“Matt,” Jen bit her lip and skimmed her fingers across his chest.

“Y-yeah…I’m still awake.”

“You make me happy.”

Perplexed, Matt shimmied and turned to face her. “Where’s that coming from?”

“Well,” she inhaled languorously, “first and foremost, you do. And second, I probably don’t tell you that enough and haven’t said it enough for as long as I’ve known you. But it’s true. You do make me happy and I’m glad that you’ve been in my life.”

“So it has nothing to do with the fact that you just had an amazing evening with me?”

Jen shoved him forward and slouched down into the bed. “Here I am trying to have a heartfelt moment and you gotta be all cocky.”

“Part of the charm,” he shrugged, shades of purple and yellow highlighting his form. “Please keep in mind, you signed up for this.”

“You’re right. I signed up to slum it with you.”

“Ouch,” Matt pulled her to his shoulder. “And she comes back swinging.”

“Always. No one’s taking me down without a fight.”

“I’m very aware. Past events aside, I’m pretty sure you bruised my ribs last week when we were at the gym.”

“You weren’t complaining on the floor afterwards.”

“Well, I felt better afterwards, obviously.” Jen swatted at him and he clasped her hand to his chest. “To be fair, you’re the one that decided I didn’t need a shirt when we got to grappling and I seem to recall you tugging at my shorts.”

“I don’t see the problem. You look good without a shirt…or shorts.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it. Guess God decided to gift me better looks …considering.”

“You shut your mouth,” she teased and yawned. “You were probably a good looking kid.”

“Eh…I seem to recall a really embarrassing haircut when I was younger.”

“Whatever. There’s no way you were an ugly kid.”

“What, and you were?”

“Were? Honey, I still am. You’ve now seen through my grand, master plan.”

“What’s that?” voice heavy with sleep

Jen laughed and squeezed his chest. “Hang out with a blind guy, gradually woo him, make him want to be with me; then infiltrate his amazing apartment and sleep there all the while he can’t see me.”

“Seems to have worked out just as you planned, blind guy and all.”

 

_Sunday_

The alarm cut through dreamscape with surgical precision to bring Matt out of sleep and Jen shot upright in bed. “It’s alright,” Matt placed a rough hand on her thigh. “I’m sorry; go back to sleep.”

“No,” she whined, flopping heavily back into the pillow and pulling Matt with her. “It can’t be morning yet.”

“That’s the thing about time,” he brought the back of her hand to his lips and placed a kiss there. “It keeps moving forward and nights become mornings and so on and so on.”

“Rather poetic this morning, Mr. Murdock,” she ran a hand through his hair and made no attempt to correct the fantastic bed head he was donning. “Sure you can’t stay in bed a little longer?”

“Maybe one day when I’ve made partner; but for now I need to get ready and go to work.”

Jen watched as Matt stretched his arms overhead and lifted himself to his feet.

Matt rising out of bed was one of her favorite, private moments that she was privy to within the realm of their relationship. Stunning form: lines of muscle and bone. Breathtaking.  
Something stirred in her chest when he got up and moved. The same feeling filled her when she’d knock him down on the mat and he’d push himself back up. She couldn’t quite explain it: pride, envy, covetousness; whatever it was she craved it.

“Yes?” he threw over his shoulder as he pulled out his attire for the day and tossed it across the foot of the bed.

“How do you do that?”

“What, know that you’re staring at me? Easy. You find me irresistible and you always look at me when I’ve got my shirt off.”

Head propped up on her fist, her lashes fluttered and she huffed, “That’s not entirely true all of the time. I’m not complaining when you’re marching around in your underwear or less.”  
“But seriously, how can you tell?”

Matt shrugged and flipped the covers off her body. Bent at the waist he pressed another kiss into her hair. “It’s not hard to figure out that you’re concentrating on something when you go incredibly quiet and your breathing changes. Considering the obvious distraction in the room, I just assume it’s me.”

“Well, rather observant of you. Did you have to throw the covers off? It’s cold.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I figured you wanted to follow me into the shower.”

Jen bit her lip as her stomach flipped. “Counselor, you’ll have no objections from me.”

 

Expert hands fastened the silk knot at his throat while he finished buttoning his suit jacket. “I might be late.” She chuckled and straightened his tie, a quick pay against his chest let him know she had finished. “You’re to blame, you know.”

“Me? I don’t seem to recall going into that shower with the notion I was going to be fucked into a tile wall this morning,” she jabbed.

“Language!” A smirk was plastered on his face and he cracked his hand against her behind. “It’s too early for that kind of language and the last I checked, the CEO of Duquesne Enterprises didn’t talk like that.”

“You’re right,” her voice flat and arms folded across her chest. “But Mac talks like that and that’s who you keep company with most of the time. Besides,” she lightly shoved his chest, “you could have stopped at any time and got back to getting ready.”

“And leave a job half finished? That doesn’t sound very much like me,” he winked. “Do I get to see you tonight?”

Her arms wrapped around his neck and she heaved another sigh. “You never see me.” _Oh. Look at that smile._  
“Want a family dinner?”

“Only if you’re making that pork roast you’ve got in the fridge.” _That had to have been an eyeroll._  
Lips met tenderly at first and he laughed when she shoved him towards the door. Matt leaned in and left her with one last brisk kiss before moving toward the door. “And the good potatoes.”

“I’m going to move all of your damn furniture to the left three inches.”

“Don’t do that. I’m blind!” Effervescence and the smell of her filled his chest.

“It’s what you deserve because you’re a trash boyfriend,” she shouted out the bedroom.

“You like it,” Matt hollered back and shut the door behind him.  
_She does, though. Like me. And this. And it’s not because I’m trash either. She’s the first person in a long time that really believes in who I am._

 

_October_

“Have the headaches gotten any better?” Foggy smiled; Matt could hear it, but despite his hopefulness, he heard the layer of despondency lingering in his tone.

Matt set his silverware down with care and wiped his mouth. “She went and saw the neurologist; you know how it goes. From what she understands, they’re going over everything with a fine-toothed comb to make sure nothing is overlooked.”

“You don’t think…you know…it’s a tumor or anything, do you?”

_Christ, I really hope not. The crying…at night when she thinks I’m asleep…she’s terrified._  
“I dunno, man.”

Quiet solemnity juxtaposed with the casual chaos of the diner. Fresh coffee, bacon grease, pancake batter. Heat filling the space from the grill. The clinking of coffee mugs and spoons; the scraping of forks and plates.  
Neither one had much of an appetite today: Jen was at the specialist getting her results before going in to work. Both of the Columbia Boys managed to get late morning starts at the office today. One on each of her arms, they walked her to the doctor’s office and waited patiently at the diner down the block.

Nelson breathed sharply and picked up his coffee cup, disinterested. “This is excruciating.”

“I know what you mean. But, I think going with her today helped more than we realize.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. She was calmer on the way in than she would have been on her own.”

One of the phones sat in the middle of the table buzzed obnoxiously. Foggy flipped it over and squinted. “She’s just going straight to work and wants me to remind you that you don’t have to come to cocktail hour tonight at the gala unless you want to impress people.”  
“Do you think she got good news and she wants to get right back to work or she got bad news and is burying herself in work?

His head leaned backward and he sighed. “Unless I can hear her, I dunno. Damn. And you know full well she’s going to be a pain in the ass about it and not answer her cell and tell Tia to divert our calls, right?”

A few bills were tossed onto the table top and his best friend wrapped his breakfast sandwich in his napkin. “Yeah. Buddy, look…we’re going to feel like shit either way, so let’s just go to work and then get you ready for the gala tonight. That’s probably the best thing we can do.”

 

Thunder, steady rain; streaks of electricity charging through the sky. Unfocused, Matt Murdock slid out of the town car and presented his invitation to the doorman, his cane cracking open at his side. Guests rushed inside in order to protect their prized attire. There was a theme this year, Jen divulged, at Duquesne’s discretion. From the pronounced to the nuanced, guests were supposed to wear embellishments of old gods from any pantheon; though most would more than likely pick those from Greek or Roman antiquity.  
_Find her._

The number of people crammed into the museum’s lobby had increased exponentially each year Duquesne enterprises held there gala here and this year was no exception. The sheer amount of sound: the conversations, clinking of glass, rustle of fabric; the rain and the traffic… _How am I supposed to find her in all of this?  
This is – this is too much…wait…that’s Duquesne’s voice…there on the stair. Keep calm, idiot. You don’t even know…oh. There._

Hushed words from the observant; whispers and gasps. At the top of the stair stood Duquesne, golden wings embroidered into the lapels of his suit jacket. Subtle and tasteful as far as he was concerned, Matt knew that this was Duquesne’s embodiment of Hermes as the patron god of commerce and trade. But it was the other figure on his elbow that he was more focused on. Subtly, he weaved around the throng, whispers sifting into his ear as he moved closer to the stair.

_“Is that MacDougall?!”_   
_“That dress is stunning. Darling…look at her!”_

_“Who’s she supposed to be? Gray and light blue is such a redundant combination.”_   
_“Shush. You obviously didn’t pay attention to Greek mythology when you were in school. Look at the silver owl at her right hip…and that bronze breastplate…”_   
_“Like you know who she’s supposed to be.”_   
_“Of course I do, you old hag!”_

_“Not exactly what I’d wear, but she pulls it off.”_

_“How does she always manage to pull off some of the most tasteful gowns?”_   
_“Who’s that?”_   
_“That’s the CEO, and he’s the founder. Jesus, imagine the taste of power that they have…”_

_“Her headband…what’s that supposed to represent. I don’t get it.”_   
_“Are – are those lions on it?”_

_“A sleeveless tunic and a sheer cloak? Please. How obviously boring.”_   
_“Well, I don’t see you doing any better. Who were you supposed to be tonight anyway?”_

Duquesne patted Jen’s hand and let her go about her business. Murdock knew she had spied him at some point during descent; the flutter in her heart always made a sly smile tug at his mouth.  
“Lady Athena,” Matt bowed reverently and offered her his hand. Jen smiled and wrapped his hand around her arm, turning place a pin on his jacket.  
“What is this,” hands roaming over the metal ornament.

“Scales. While you fit into a bunch of categories, I felt that Themis was appropriate.”

“Astute of you,” he teased, walking about with her. “Quite a pairing, isn’t it?”

“What’s that,” she peeked around, assuming he had overheard some obscure gossip.

“The Greek titaness of fairness and law with the Greek goddess of wisdom and warfare. Imagine a world dominated by that!”

“It’d be sheer chaos,” her head leaned in to his, her voice shallow. “As nice as it sounds, there needs to be balance and order. That’s what you are.”

“Balance?”

“At least to me you are, lawyer-side of you aside.”

“Jen…”

A sigh, heavy and long, escaped her lips. “Not yet, Matt. I’ll tell you; just not yet.”

 

The breast plate had been discarded as soon as she’d crossed the threshold into her apartment along with her sandals. The billowy chiffon, drenched from their walk in the downpour, weighed down on her frame. Matt locked up for the night and stood in the middle of her living room while Murph coming to sniff at his feet.

“Good boy,” his voice low. “It’s alright, Murph, go back to bed. We’re home now.”

The dog was now a year old and weighed in at over a hundred thirty-five pounds and standing above her hip. Jen had him trained over the course of the year and he knew a slew of commands in English and a handful in Dutch. The Dutch commands, Jen warned Foggy, were for protection. Murph was trained to distinguish English commands as safe and Dutch as danger.

Murph lumbered over to Jen and nuzzled her hand. A quick pat to his side sated him and he moved to his couch when she asked him to go to bed.

Jen turned and stared at her partner in the dim light. Quick flashes would illuminate the apartment before rendering back to its natural state: a simple nightlight, radiating a golden glow akin to a candle, shone in the kitchen.

“I know that quiet. You’re looking at me again.”

“Thinking,” her jewelry tossed onto the counter.

“And?”

Jen pulled him to her and let her lips graze against his. “This enough of an idea?”

“I’m not one to turn you down, that’s for damn sure; but I think you should tell me how your doctor’s appointment went this morning,” his hands sat at her waist and his tone rather plain.

“Don’t you want me?”

“Of course I do,” he set his glasses on the counter. “Jen…how could that be the first thing you retort with after I ask about this morning? I care about you.”

“Hmm.”

“You’ve been a wreck: uh…where do I begin? Not sleeping? Lack of appetite? I know you’re crying when you think I’m asleep. Christ…there’s been a knot in my chest all – all damn day because I’ve been consumed with you!” words quick to fall from his tongue. “But now you turn around with this nonchalant attitude when I ask about it and make it sound like I don’t want you? Are – are you serious?!”

“No, I’m not,” she whispered, a hand caressed his face. “I’m in this bizarre state of euphoria and puzzlement…I’ve been like this all day; and – and I didn’t want to see you or Foggy because…I – I needed to figure things out. Try to wrap my head around everything…”

“Damn it, Jennifer; will you just tell me?”

“There’s no tumor…no lesion…nothing. Every scan, every image: normal. Nothing in the blood tests; nothing in the Doppler…There’s nothing there.”

Matt let go of the breath he’d held close to his chest, “You’re – you’re fine?”

“As far as they know,” she nodded against his forehead. “I need to start a migraine regimen. But they’re baffled, which is the puzzling part of it all, I suppose. But, I guess…”

_Soft. Kind and persistent. Kisses like this…oxygen in my veins. An embrace holding me close, fingers digging into my shoulders. This, right here? This is home._

“I thought you promised,” Matt whispered into her shoulder, arms still holding her tight, “that you weren’t going to scare me like that ever again.”

Jen’s hand caressed the nape of his neck and she leaned into him. “I did, didn’t I, huh? Years ago… I thought you weren’t scared of anything.”

“Not much,” he bit his lip, face flushed. “A life without you in it is…well, uh…doesn’t matter now.”

Music filled the silence in the room as Jen commanded her phone to play something from a playlist, sending the pair to sway in time cheek to cheek.  
“I’m sorry I worried you. But I wanted to tell you when it was just us. No one else. No one else knows or cares about my business at that gala…but here? It’s just you. Only you. Safe.”

Matt snorted, “Foggy’s going to be real put out when he finds out you told me first.”

“No he’s not,” lethargy seeped into her voice, a languorous yawn erupted before she nuzzled into his neck. “He found out the heart results first. Then I called you.”

“I’m hurt,” Matt chuckled. “I thought, as your boyfriend, I got first dibs on all of the information.”

“Most of it,” she smiled, eyes closing.

“Come on, Athena,” Matt dipped down and picked her up. “You’re going to fall asleep dancing and standing up. I think it’s bedtime.” Hooking her arms around his neck, he maneuvered around the room and ventured towards the bedroom.

Having stepped out of her wet clothes, Jen slipped into a pair of silk shorts and a bamboo t-shirt before clambering into bed. While Matt undressed, she mused, “I’m still impressed every time you do this at either place,” her voice husky, “without dropping me or running into walls.”

Changed, he pulled the covers over his waist and nestled into bed. “You make it pretty easy by keeping everything pretty close to its original place when I map out a room. Can’t really complain about a woman that keeps me in mind when she’s decorating.”

“Hmm; bet you say that to all the girls, Counselor.”

“Just one.”


	30. When the Levy Broke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's shorter than other chapters, but it's closing the timeline. Yay!

_May_

“What do you mean that you two quit?!”

“We’re going to go out and do our own thing, create our own firm. Help the people who really need help in our hometown,” Foggy sipped from his coffee cup. “Matt and I are really going to do some good for The Kitchen, Jen.”

Exhalation was abrupt through her nose and she frowned. “I believe you, Fog. I do. But have you two even remotely considered everything that you need to start your own firm? The filing, paperwork; the infrastructure? And when did you two quit?”

“Two weeks ago…and, that’s kind of why I wanted to pick your brain,” he turned sheepish. “You know this stuff like the back of your hand considering that you have to secure locations for your boss all around the globe…”

“Uh-huh,” her tone flat.

“…so – so I was wondering if you would help us get going: filling out everything we’re going to need so that there aren’t any surprises…”

“Foggy, I’m your friend and practically your sister,” hands folded into her lap. “Stop beating around the bush and ask me like someone that wants to head their own firm.”

Eyes steeled, Foggy leaned backward and sat straighter in her kitchen chair. “Mac, I want your help securing a new office and need assistance in filing the paperwork to create our law firm. Will you help me or not?”

“That’s better,” she smirked. “And yes, I’ll help you. First thing’s first: does Matt know that you’ve come to talk to me? Did you two kibitz over this?”

“Well…not exactly…he’s been going over all of the logistics within the law and the city in order for us to file appropriately, so I didn’t want to bother him…” Foggy stared down at his coffee, swirling the spoon idly about. “You know he’s going to be pissed that brought it up.”

“Yeah, well. I’m going to tell him, too. Not that he wouldn’t figure it out on his own anyway.”

“Yeah.”

“I suggest the two of you start looking at whatever assets you have to get a ballpark figure for how much you can spend on an office; once you give me a number, I can start helping you two navigate the market and find a place…we should move soon, though. Properties are getting bought up in The Kitchen; the buyers are taking advantage of the market. You two would be smart to do the same.”

“Alright then, I’ll get to work,” he stood up and downed the last of his coffee. “I’ll see you at family dinner, right? We’re going to that burger place.”

“Yep. Love you. See you later.”

 

Jen leaned against Matt’s counter, hands bracing her upright when his front door opened and shut.  
Matt sniffed loudly and announced, “I should warn you, I have an incredibly stunning girlfriend that’ll be more than happy to throw you out of my apartment that wears the very same perfume. She’s pretty adept at ass kicking.”

“Oh, well that’s good,” she teased. “I would hate to not make her work for it.”

“Hi, hon,” he kissed her cheek and swatted her behind, depositing his things on the counter behind her. “How was your day off? You ready for dinner?”

“Oh, it was fine…”

_That tone…shit. She knows._

“…were you going to tell me, wait for me to figure it out, or just have Foggy feel guilty enough about it to come to me first?” She turned and watched him bow his head and bite his lip. “Matthew Michael Murdock; you little shit.”

“Uh, okay, I know you’re upset…”

“Upset? No,” her words quick; arms now folded over her chest. “Disappointed? Closer to the mark. Why did I have to find out about this from Foggy before you told me…considering? Because – because that stung.”

“I didn’t want you to worry or – or feel obligated to bail me out. I’m the one that convinced Foggy we needed to leave…I, uh…wanted to have things figured out first.”

“How’s that working, Matt?”

Matt reached out to her and waited for a moment, hand expectant; relief washing over him when she placed her hand in his. Slowly, he pulled her closer to him; one arm wrapped around her waist and the other pressed her open palm to his chest.  
“Slow,” he admitted with a sigh. “Paperwork’s a bitch, but I’m muddling my way through it. We decided we’re dividing and conquering the work to make it go faster: I’m doing the research and he’s looking for a place.”

“Mm-hmm; and?”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Thank you,” he grinned, voice rough. “But I’m the idiot that will be one of the owners and partners at Nelson and Murdock. I will actually be able to file your complaint officially.”

“Complaint? What complaint?”

“I seem to recall,” he swayed them lightly, “going to a dinner with a woman at The Carlyle a few years ago where she ended up giving a speech. That woman kissed me in the hallway and called me an ass. I told her she could file a complaint with Nelson and Murdock.”

Jen rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Whatever happened to her?”

“I’m dating her. For over a year now. She’s fantastic.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “Kissing ass doesn’t get you out of everything, Murdock.” Hot kisses trailed down her neck and shoulder. “Neither does sex.”

“No, but it’s a start and I _am_ sorry.”

 

“So, you’re not mad?” Foggy grimaced, setting his burger down.

Jen shrugged and bounced her eyes between the men on the opposite side of the table. “Disappointed you two didn’t tell me sooner, but I get it. I do.”

Matt nodded, “Thank you. We’re sorry that we didn’t tell you; but we wanted to have everything figured out before we told you…”

“Now; that aside,” she leaned forward and swallowed hard. “I want to propose a business venture with the pair of you.”

“Jen,” Matt chastised. “No.”

Foggy furrowed a brow and swiped his hands before him. “No way. You already do enough for us as is.”

“Will you two stop and shut your mouths? Jesus.” Both men were tightlipped and waited patiently. “I’ll help you secure an office by providing a portion of the financials. I would like twenty percent of stock in the company as an anonymous stockholder.”

“You can’t be serious,” Foggy groaned. “Mac, that’s not fair to you.”

“If you dweebs are as successful as I know you should be, then twenty percent is plenty. Just promise me that you’re going to give it your all; you two are going to make a difference.” The edge in her voice was absolute and firm.

“Mac…”

“You got it. With everything that we’ve got,” Matt replied, elbowing his best friend. “Thank you. Now I’m going to square up my bill and go home to do some work. I’ll see you two later.”

 

Foggy left the restaurant after his other two friends had left; a warm contentedness ebbing into his soul. A lightness bounced in his step and the weight from neglecting to tell Jen about them quitting Landman and Zach before they were officially offered a job had gone.

Rounding the block, Foggy peered up and saw Jen smiling and holding someone’s hand, their identity hidden around the corner of the building. Stunned, Foggy stopped in his tracks and watched a small dialogue occur between her and the hidden stranger before working up the courage move again.

Eyes transfixed, the scene unfolded to where Jen was alone and now aware that Foggy had seen her.  
“Young lady, are you smiling?” Foggy teased.

A tentative hand tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear and she laughed at the ground. “Perhaps, Mr. Nelson.”

“And how long has this been going on? You didn’t tell me you were seeing anyone!”

“I didn’t want to jinx it,” she admitted, honest eyes meeting his. “With everything that I’ve let go as far as relationships…I – I just wanted this one to be okay, you know?”

The corner of his mouth turned up and he nodded. “Yeah. I getcha. So…this guy…”

“Mm-hmm…”

“Does he make you happy?”

“Yeah, Fog.”

“And he treats you right?”

“So far; so good…the best.”

“Well,” he crossed his arms, “I guess if you think he’s alright and you’ve got that kind of smile on your face, I can let it slide. When do I get to meet him?”

“Oh, I dunno. Once I don’t screw it up?” she offered with a shrug and tucked her arm through the crook of Foggy’s elbow.

“Tell you what…if you’re still dating the guy in two months…and you’re still this happy…I’d like to meet him. Who else is going to share your wild and embarrassing stories?”

“I don’t have many of those.”

“Nah,” Foggy elbowed her. “Just you dancing on cars, making dolphin noises…and then there was St. Patrick’s Day…”

“Alright, alright!” she laughed. “I can’t make it any promises. But I’ll ask him if he wants to meet you after two months. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

 

Shot upright in bed, Matt held his head in his hands. He heard it again: the little girl down the block was crying. Her father had just left to go to work.  
_Jesus Christ. How can he do that to his child?_

A touch, soft and warm; a hand rested patiently on his thigh. “Is it another nightmare?” her rough voice cut through the ambient stillness of his apartment.

“Y-yeah,” he nodded. “It’s – it’s just… I’m sorry.”  
_Don’t lie to her. Keep it simple. She doesn’t know that you can hear…everything._

“Want to tell me about it?”

“Not really.”

“Hmm,” she cracked an eye open and looked up at him. “Come on; come back to me.”

There was a faint rustle of fabric and he could sense she’d maneuvered herself so that her arms would around him. “You know I can’t say ‘no’ to that.”

Jen’s laugh light, she closed her eyes and pulled his back flush to her. “One of my numerous charms. I have you. You’re safe because I’ve got your back. You can go back to sleep,” she pressed a kiss into his hair.

“I know you do. I have you, too.”

 

_Two Weeks Later_

_I called child services. They showed up today and I heard them talking to the mother. She didn’t believe it and kept telling the officers and the social worker that there had been some sort of mistake…that her husband would never do that; that he wasn’t like those men. The social worker checked the daughter over.  
“Not a bruise or mark,” I heard her say to the officers, presumably in the hallway._

_That just means the bastard’s careful. He’d have to be. He’s been preying on his daughter for God knows how long. Not a mark. That bastard. What’s the system doing for her? It sure as hell just failed her because there wasn’t enough evidence to prove that he was molesting her. But I know. I’m the only other person that knows._

_Where was the system when Jen needed it? Lost in legal tape and loopholes. Lack of credibility due to her mother. Jen. There wasn’t anyone there to help her. She suffered in silence. She got other people out. Protected those that she could… Not everyone’s that strong._

_Damn it. That girl needs somebody. It has to be me. I have to do something. I have to make it right. I have to make it better because I can. I know I can._

_I know his routine. I can hear him when he’s home; when he’s out. I’ve followed him a few times on the rooftops. I know where he works. I can get to him. I can protect that little girl. I can protect her like I should have protected Jen had I known her back then. I can do it. I have to. Jen needed someone like me. I can be that person for that girl._

_Tonight._

 

…<<<…>>>…

 

_She’s in my apartment. Damn it. What am I going to do? Ah…wait…she’s left the lights off. Why’s she done that? What if something happened to her? Oh Christ; what if it’s bad news and she’s been waiting for me? Shit. I knew I should have called her before I went out._

_Come on, Murdock, you dumbass. Open the damn door and go to her. You know she’s going to be mad. That much you deserve._

Matt opened the door loudly and sniffed the air; remnants of her perfume were enough of a blatant clue she was there, but there were also notes of leather, sweat, adrenaline, and chalk floating around. He knew exactly what that combination meant: _She’s been fighting._

“Hon? Are you home?” Matt called fully aware that she was rooting around in his freezer.

“Yeah,” she replied. “Sorry; I should have let you know I was on my way over.”

Matt rounded the corner, relieved that the lights he’d put in for her to use were still off. Face puffy and lip split, he did his best to hide in the shadows. “Are you alright?”

“What makes you think I’m not?”

 _Elevated heart rate, you’ve got the frozen peas and the bottle of vodka I kept in the freezer in your hand; I can smell the gym on you and you’re bleeding…but no reason._ “Because I know you. Something in you voice is saying otherwise.”

“You’re going to be disappointed.”

“You were fighting.”

“Yeah. I was.”

Matt nodded and stepped into the swirl of yellow light. “So, tell me…which of the two of us got it worse?”

“Matt!” she gasped having rushed to him. “What the hell happened?”

“I got into a fight tonight, too.”

“Why didn’t you call me? You idiot!”

Matt chuckled and hissed at her prodding. “And missed out on the name calling and reminding you that I’m your idiot? Where’s the fun in that?”  
Jen grew quiet in her meticulous evaluation of his injuries. “That bad?”

“Shut up.”

“Must be. Good thing I called in sick for tomorrow on the way home. Gives me time to think about how stupid I was…and how I could try and make it up to you,” he stilled her hands. “I’m fine, see?”

“Hmpf.”

“What about you?” Matt’s hands ghosted over her swollen brow. “Get clocked in the eye? What else?”

“Cheap shot to the nose,” she shrugged, eyes cast down. “I won, if that makes you less upset.”

“I’m not upset,” he cupped her face and pressed his lips into a thin line. “It’s just…what gave you the itch to get back into the cage?”

“What do you mean?”

“Was it me? Did I do something lately that made you want to get back in there…”

Jen shook her head and rested her hands against his chest, “No, Matt! Of course not. I – I’ve been feeling it creep up on me lately…like it’s bile rising in my throat…it needed dealt with. I don’t know…I – I think…”

 _I already know. Because I felt it tonight. Again. It’s there. It’s always been there._ “…you just like to fight?”

“Does that make me a monster?”

“No.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“You first.”

“Alright,” Matt smirked. “On the count of three? One…two…three…”

“Rule seven!”  
“Rule seven.”

_Her pulse has quickened…skin’s hot. Jesus. I want her._

“Well then,” she rasped as her arms hooked around his neck, “I seems this leaves us at an impasse.”

“I believe it does, for now.” _When she’s done a fight or won a tournament…there’s fire in her blood. And she ignites mine in kind._ “What am I going to do with you?”

Jen chambered her body and hopped up, legs wrapped around his waist. “I’ve had a few ideas since I threw my first punch this evening, if you’re interested, Counselor.”

Greedy and rough, her lips melded to his and left him both breathless and in a haze. “I would love to tell you that I haven’t had similar thoughts,” he pulled her down on his hips, “but I think we’re both aware now that would be a lie.”

Feverish. Hands ripping at fabric. Thighs gripping tighter. Gnashing of teeth, heady growls, fingertips digging into tender flesh. Clothing scattered about the apartment. High pitched sighs. Tastes of sweat and desperation and need. Sharp, gold points pinned between their bodies. The coolness of silk sheets against the fire under their skin.

“Jen,” he growled when she bit into his shoulder.

“Shut up,” she snarled, pinning him to the bed beneath them. “You can gasp, you may groan; you can call out to God if you must,” her nails marked lines down his chest as she lowered herself onto him. “But the only other word I want coming off your lips is my name. I want you and you’re mine.”

 _Holy shit. God, how does she do that? I – I can’t think…this…Jesus Christ._  
“Jen!”

 

Silken tresses ghosted across his chest as Jen feathered kisses to each mark she’d left on his body, his hands idly threading her gold chain between his fingers.

“Permission to speak, ma’am?”

“Granted,” she smirked, an open mouthed kiss placed on his side, “I suppose.”

“That was good.”

“Hmm,” a hum of delight. “So were you.” She rested her chin on his chest and stared up the smug grin she’d come to revere. “Glad you enjoyed yourself. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Sensitive fingers skimmed over raised lines and newly formed bruises on his chest. “Not so much that I didn’t enjoy it.”

“Pretty sure I have a handprint on my ass.”

Matt’s hand slid down her back and felt about. “You do. I think it’s my best work.”

“Shut up,” she laughed, rolling off to his side. “It still stings.”

“Good. Reminds you that I’ve still got it.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know. Dashing good looks? Charm? Swagger? I dunno…it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You aren’t mad?”

“About what? You getting into a fight?” He nodded. “No. Worried that you’re going to get hurt more than anything.”

Matt frowned, his hands ceased their ministrations against her skin. “You think I don’t have that same drop in my stomach when I find out you’re out in the underground circuit?”

“I’ve been taking a beating most of my life, I’m still here.”

“And what about the one time where it’s an unregulated fight and they hit you in the temple and you go down? What about when they hit you hard enough your heart seizes?” She stilled. “I want you to come home to me, Jen. It’s selfish. I know and I’m sorry. But…I – I need you, alright?”  
“I lost my dad through fighting. I can’t lose you to it, too.”

_Jen’s softer now. Her heart. Her breath. The rush of her skin. She’s wholly sorry. I know she is. And I know that she tries so hard every day to push that monster back. I know what it feels like._

_But right now, soft lips on mine; tender, really…she’s telling me she understands. She knows. That she’s trying to be better for her and for me. That she wants good things for me. That it’ll be hard sometimes and that we’ll figure it out. That one day she’ll tell me about tonight. And – and maybe I’ll tell her, too._

_Lean muscle, lithe; perfectly fitted against me. Her heart’s fluttered again and her face is hot. God, yes: her hands tangled in my hair again._

“Now, Miss MacDougall,” he husked, dropping her necklace between her breasts and pulling her against him, “I’m not quite done with you. Because as much as I’m yours…you’re also mine.”


	31. When I First Danced with the Devil

_I was walking back home with Murph at my side. We’d gone out for our evening jog. Salt and heat drifted through the air, passing one of my favorite take-out joints in The Kitchen. It was three miles or so. Murph loves that run. He knows that we do it once a week on Saturdays and he knows that I stop at Matt’s for a breather before the walk back. It’s purely coincidental that Matt keeps a stash of Milkbones in the cabinet._

_Matt wasn’t home and not picking up his cell either; he’s probably got his headphones in to tune out the extra sound. Probably working. Murph’s whined a little and snapped his jowls to make a huffing sound._   
_“He’s not answering, bub; I’m sorry!”_

_“Huff.”_

_“I’m not barging up there while he’s working. I’ll give you a treat when we get back,” I promise with a scratch behind his ears. “Come on, big guy. Let’s go home.”_

_The walk back was uneventful. The sun had set a while ago and a different breath of live rose from the city. Some neighborhoods we walked through hummed in anticipation of weekend nightlife while other grew more quiet; reverent in their evening homesteads._

_One particular alley that we usually take seemed eerily quiet. No matter. I’ve got Murph with me and he’s pretty much a deterrent against anything. Full steam ahead we go._

_It was sudden. I wasn’t expecting it because, I mean, who’s going to mess with a woman that walks with a hundred thirty-five pound dog that snarls on command? Three assholes. That’s who._

_“Murph,” my voice low, “Bewaken. Blaffen.”_

_On cue, Murph steps in front of me and barks, the sound booming off the brick walls; to anyone it would be enough of a warning. But not them. They run for us._

_I yell, “Vooruit,” and my dog charges at the guy to the left. The guy in the middle tries to rip Murph off his buddy; allow me to grieve and mourn over the fact that Murph bit through his hand._

_I’m doing my best to deflect blows from my aggressor, really, but their fighting style’s chaotic and I’m having a hard time deciphering things in the dark. Crack to my face. Thud against the brick. Black and red creep into my vision. And then black. A figure in black. Look at him go…_

_“Murph,” I try to cry out but my voice falls._

_I swear that I see Murph turn and prick his ears up after the guy in black knocks out the bad guy my dog had by the throat. But that’d be weird. I’m imagining it. There’s no way in God’s green Earth that Murph would just stare up at the guy. He’d go after him. Shit._

_“Listen to me,” a gruff voice cuts through the dark. “You’re safe. But you’re hurting. Your dog’s sitting here beside you and I’ve called the cops.”_

_“But…”_

_“Don’t talk. You knocked your head pretty badly. Just wait. Don’t move. Stay out of trouble.”_

_“Another one,” the officer shook his head as he wrote down my statement._

_“Excuse me, a-another one?”_

_“Yeah, this guy in a black mask keeps rescuing and helping people, beating bad guys to a pulp. You’re the fifth person this week to give that description to us. After your medical care, you’re free to leave. Here’s a card for you to call.”_

 

_I could hear a scuffling in an alley one night. Some older guy is getting mugged. The cops told me to keep my head down. Where’s the glory in that? They keep coddling me like I’m some delicate thing made of glass. Not Matt. He keeps pushing me to get stronger. To be better. At the office. At the dojo. At home. To be better for me and no one else._   
_He wants me to try and stay out of trouble. Pity. It keeps finding me._

_“Hey!” I shout and sprint across the street. “Leave that man alone!”_

_“Listen lady,” the girl sneers, “This ain’t got nothing to do with you. Back off and take a walk.”_

_“I’m not walking out of here without that guy, he can barely stand. Take his wallet, but leave him the hell alone.”_

_I take a step forward and this chick, methed out of her mind, pulls a gun on me. There’s a weird, sobering stillness that washes down my spine. Cold steel level with my head. She’s yelling something._   
_The shadows move behind her. I know who it is. It’s him. He’s here. She notices, too. Whether it’s my eyes going wide or she felt the presence behind her…I don’t know._

_I’m going to call her Karen. I don’t know what else to call her. Didn’t get a name. But Karen’s arm swings towards the vigilante. At least that’s what the papers call him. A quick maneuver here and the rolling of her shoulder there, I’m able to slam her hand off the dumpster and the gun goes flying. Vigilante guy shoves me out of the way, shouts for me to get the old man home, and the next thing I head is a body flying through the air. I know it was her. But I grab the old man and hustle out of the alley way._

_His name is Leland. He was on his way home from bingo when high-as-a-fucking-kite Karen roughed him up. There’s a few scrapes that he lets me clean up. Then he tries to hand me money. I refuse. Tell him to lock his door behind me. That I’d check in on him tomorrow during lunch to see if he was home._

_One step in front of each other. The adrenaline is finally dipping down. The lights aren’t as bright as they seemed when I had nitro in my veins. The world is calmer again. I’m not far from the corner to call a cab._

_“I thought I told you to stay out of trouble,” a gruff voice interrupts my thoughts. It’s dark enough that I can’t readily tell where it’s coming from. But he’s near._

_“I heard you. But I wasn’t going to sit idly by and let that man get attacked. I had to help.”_

_“Had to help or had to get into a fight?”_

_“Listen, asshole, you don’t know anything about me,” I snap into the shadows. “You know nothing about me. I was helping that guy!”_

_“I believe you. I’m just stating the obvious that you have a knack for getting into trouble.”_

_“You and someone else I know would probably get along swell if it weren’t for the whole,” I motion to his entire person, “vigilantism.”_

_“Yeah. I get that a lot. Take care of yourself and go home. I’m sure there’s someone at home that would miss you if something happened.”_

_“What, outside of my dog?”_

_“Is there? Someone?”_

_“Yes. Now you can’t murder me and hide my body.”_

_He chuckles. I think. It’s dark and echoing. “Wasn’t planning on it.”_

_I head shuffling and muted footsteps; he’s leaving. “Hey…uh…No-Fear…thanks. Again.”_   
_Matt. I want Matt. Just to sit there and be near him. To be in the same room as him…that’s what I need. I need to go._

 

_There was a pounding on my roof. Murph bolted uptight and barked at the ceiling. I should have called the cops. I should have. But I’d just got done fighting in another ring tonight. I’ve got fire in my blood. Matt was out and I couldn’t get the carnal reward I wanted. So I armed myself. Climbed the wrought-iron steps and shoved the door open._

_There he was._

_The Man Without Fear._

_…unconscious on my roof._

_The rise and fall of his chest brings me a little comfort. At least he’s not dead. No-Fear’s heavy. I’m dragging his semi-lifeless carcass across my roof towards the couch…but I’m tired. I worked out at the gym. Arms and legs. They feel like jelly. I make it as far as the side of the couch before I give up. But I can reach the blanket._

_Quick check. No blood. I could take a look under the mask…I’d be the only person who’d know what he looked like. But…no…I can’t do that. This guy’s cleaning up The Kitchen. Protecting people. Doing some good. I’ve read the papers. I know what he’s getting up to. And that’s probably only a handful of what he’s been doing._   
_What good are the Avengers if they’re never here? They’re always off doing whatever and there’s no one home to take care of the common man. Not anymore. Not really. Good for him._

_No-Fear inhales sharply and thrashes around, fighting against the blanket. “Where am I?”_

_“Well, you keep telling me I have a knack for getting into trouble, but you’re the one that passed out on my roof.”_

_“Sorry.”_

_“At least you aren’t bleeding out.”_

_“Did – did you look under my mask?”_

_“No.”_

_“Why?”_

_He stands, shakily, and rolls his head; the vertebrae crackling back into place. “What,” I scoff, “you aren’t going to give me the third degree and ask if I’m lying?”_

_“No. I can tell. It’s a gift.” I roll my eyes. “Why?”_

_“Because that’s the point of wearing a mask, isn’t it? Anonymity?”_   
_He stood there, panting. I can’t tell what he’s thinking without being able to see more of his face. “I get it; I think. Trying to help when there’s so much bad out there. Good for you. Just – just be safer. Not everyone’s as hospitable as I am at this time of night. Especially my dog.”_

_“Your dog?”_

_I smirked, heaved myself upright and moved to the door. “Yeah, his name’s Murphy. He made his way up my stairs to check on me while you were out. Sniffed you and lost interest before heading back down. I’d take that as a compliment. He’s pretty protective and only likes a few people.”_

_“So I gathered. Thanks.”_

_I remember thinking he was nuts. He ran, full speed, off the roof and parkoured his ass across the different rooftops into the night._

_Door locked behind me, I circled back down and found Murph waiting, expectant for pets. “I’m not paid enough for this shit,” I joke. “Come on, big guy. You earned the right to sleep on the bed with me tonight. What a brave boy. Come on, Murph. Let’s go to bed.”_


End file.
